Phantasy Folder
by craftydevil
Summary: Calling all Phantom fans! This 'folder' will be dedicated to short E/C stories. Each chapter will be a new setting and story line, and even have new and different characterizations of E and C, so pay attention! Some stories will be adult in nature and some will be more innocent, but all will involve Erik and Christine realizing and/or exploring their feelings for one another.
1. Chapter 1

**Preword: Let us all be honest with ourselves for a moment...One of the best parts of E/C fanfiction stories is the many varied ways that the two love birds can figure things out and end up together. I, myself, have written quite a few short little blurbs about them exploring their feelings, some innocent, and some rated R. So why not make a casual folder dedicated to short story(one chapter length) get togethers? Life is too short to not share any and all E/C happiness that you possibly can!**

 **What follows is a short E/C moment under the opera house. E and C have known each other for years as teacher and student. Warning of bad language, humorous moments and adult sexual situations. You don't need a big preamble here as the story sort of explains itself along the way from Erik's POV. Imagine whatever Erik you prefer and leave a review if you wanna have more short snippets of E/C goodness.**

Together At Last

Tonight was not so lonely now that Christine had agreed to stay down under the opera with me. I felt glutted as I sat before the fire, although my stomach was empty since I was too nervous to eat earlier. Still, I reveled in knowing that she was just in the next room, sleeping safe and sound, under my wing.

As Christine's only guardian and protector for so many years now, I felt she was mine, and mine alone.

The issue had now arisen that she was not mine alone.

Raoul. Some pretty, blond haired fop had come into her life and started spiriting her away on dinners and carriage rides to the park. It wasn't fair that my carefully built relationship with Christine was now being strained by this intruder. It wasn't fair that I now had to compete for her attention. Music was the foundation of our relationship, so I drew on that and appealed to Christine's love of singing to get her down here. Now that she was the star of the show, and had been for the last two weeks, she needed more rest and to take better care of her voice. Who better to tend to her than me, the one who knows her best.

I don't know if I ever would have been brave enough to invite her to my home underground for some respite without the appearance of that boy, so there was one small positive from all the trouble he has caused.

He did seem to treat her with respect and would be able to provide for her through his father's money. Perhaps it was time for Christine to seek her own place in the world and leave the walls of this opera house.

I am just her deformed Maestro, and it was my own foolish heart that fell in love with my not-so-little-anymore Christine. She is a woman now, and deserves to be courted by rich, romantic men...who bring her ridiculously large flower arrangements, and drag her all over the city...showing her off for the jewel she is...

I could never be enough for a beautiful soul like Christine.

"Maestro?" Her precious voice tickled my ears and I stood from my seat by the fire to find her a few feet away, swathed in a blanket. "I'm cold."

I held out my hand to lead her around the chaise. "Join me by the fire. We will have you warm quickly." She sat beside me and I put my arm around her to rub her back briskly. The action made my lips quirk in their own version of a smile as I remembered the first few times I touched Christine's hand or hair, how hesitant we both used to be around each other. Granted, she had every right to feel hesitant around a man who had pretended to be an angel.

Although her angel gave her peace when she was little, I could not keep up the charade once she had lost those chubby little girl cheeks. There was a time I thought she would not forgive me, but my little Christine eventually confessed she wanted me in her life still. After that, her voice training really took off. I was able to coach her better with my hands and see her comprehension in her eyes when she understood the techniques. But all our training only brought her to the notice of a certain blond fairy from her past, so who could say if I should have remained hidden and at a distance. It may also have saved me from falling so fully and completely for her trusting eyes and caring soul. "I will purchase extra blankets for your bed. Forgive me for my chilly home. I do hope it won't ruin your stay here."

She smiled. "I like it here. It's so quiet and peaceful. Like another world." She seemed sleepy as she snuggled closer, resting her head on my shoulder. My arm stopped its ministrations because it would make for a bumpy head rest for her. Due to her position I had limited choices with what to do with my arm. Down by her rear end or around to her shoulder. The second seemed safer, but as I cupped her shoulder I realized I had just hugged her to me, as if she was mine to do such things with.

Did Raoul hold her when they were on their outings?

She felt so large beside me, as if she had grown again when I was sure her growing days were far behind her. My hand was frozen on her upper arm, afraid to bring too much attention to what I'd done. It has been some time since we engaged in an embrace and although this was only half of one, my impression was that Christine had no desire to hug me anymore. As a child she would throw her arms around me often, and even as a willowy adolescent. But in the last six years, we carefully remained at a professional distance. I was her teacher and mentor, and she my student and charge. But as she began to show more maturity both physically and mentally, my love for her began to twist, and there was no chance for my tattered heart.

Said heart was currently pounding at her proximity. I'm sure she could hear it, and my faux pas with the half hug had me trying to think of some intelligent conversation, as I stared at the fire. My sweet girl spoke first.

"Something has happened that we must speak about."

"What is it, dear?"

"Raoul has proposed to me."

My heart stopped as my arm clawed her ever closer. "WHAT? How dare he! It has barely been two weeks! When... How did...WAIT! What did you say?" Horror had my throat drying up.

Her hand rose from the blanket to pull out a huge sparkling ring hanging from her chain. "I told him I could not give him an answer yet, but he _made_ me take the ring!" She sounded suitably aghast.

My brain was spitting out various things to say, but my heart was trembling too precariously to form any coherent words. She went on about him kissing her and how she thought it felt strange, but like she was only dreaming and how he held doors and chairs for her and treated her like a princess. How he makes her laugh...

"Do you...love him?" I heard my voice as if from a distance ask the easiest and yet the hardest question first.

"I...I don't know..." She lapsed into silence, trembling against me under the blanket, and I made myself release her to tend the fire. I wasn't entirely sure it wasn't me trembling against her.

I knocked the burning pieces around in agitation, to create air flow, and then optimally placed the new pieces of hard wood. All this time I gained by having her down here with me was going to pass us by, and she would go above, and marry the fop, and be gone from my life forever.

I couldn't let that happen. I had to do something! I had to TRY to win her! She said she liked it down here in my cave. That must mean something coming from her smiling lips so easily.

I clapped my hands to remove any dirt and straightened my trousers as I stood. I wanted to sit and put my arm around her again, but could never be so bold. She was watching me with that little smile on her beloved face and I wondered if Raoul could manipulate this look onto her face. She looked so sweet and soft sitting on my chaise wrapped in the blanket from her bed. She seemed extremely comfortable in my home with me and my selfish ego wanted to keep her here forever.

I have helped to raise her and keep her safe. Who does this boy think he is, stealing my girl away from me? What Christine and I had was at least real, compared to fancy dinners and extravagant picnics in the park. Would she be content to remain a spinster just so I can keep her in my life forever? I had to say something, and so I started where I was most curious and threw caution to the wind.

"Christine?" I started.

"Yes, Maestro?"

"This kiss you shared with Raoul..." I tried not to sneer. "Did it warm your heart? Was it pleasing to you?"

She couldn't look at me. "I don't know." She squirmed slightly. "It seemed awkward to me. I was too shocked to enjoy it, I think. He should have asked me first so I could be prepared."

He was not as perfect as he looked! I still had a chance! I slowly made my way to the chaise with my hands clasped behind my back so she would not see them shaking.

"I have never kissed a woman before, but I imagine that it would, and should, feel like a glorious, wondrous thing. Not awkward or strange at all." Take that, flower boy.

Her eyes were on me again and her smile was growing as I sat beside her once more. "You are joking with me. You must have kissed some woman before?"

She always managed to surprise me with her questions. I could never predict what her reaction would be, and I decided it was time for the moment of truth. I met her amused, curious gaze with my ever, serious masked expression.

"There is only one love, one woman, I wish to embrace, and would hate to impose my deformed lips upon hers without her express permission." Our eyes were locked and I could see hers widen slightly as she wondered who I loved. "I also have been hesitant to ask her permission because of our long association and close professional relationship." Her eyes seemed to spark with the awareness that she was the only one to fit that description in my life and therefore, I was confessing my heart to her.

"Only one love? In your whole life?" That was her question?

"Is that not how it is meant to be? Falling in love with one radiant, delightful creature and being willing to do anything, even die, for your love?" She wasn't shying away from me, if anything my last statement brought her closer, with her dainty hand covering mine where it sat on my leg.

"Don't speak of dying..." She was staring down at our hands on my leg and I heard the trembling breath enter her lungs. She seemed about to cry and I wondered if I upset her with my confession.

I took her hand from my leg into both of mine and she, startled, looked up with a shiny gloss to her eyes. I couldn't read the expression on her face. "Tell me what you wish of me, dearest Christine. I will do anything you ask. Anything to make you happy." I stopped my stumbling tongue, but she was hanging on my every word.

"Erik...?" She was gazing up at me, and I couldn't help thinking the tilt of her face would allow me access to her lips. Was she giving me permission? I slowly leaned closer, my breath halting as she watched with shining eyes. I could not allow for any mistakes and she had unknowingly given me some advice in these sorts of interactions.

"May I kiss you, Christine?" I asked politely as her lashes fluttered down. Her nod was weak, but her nose brushed my mask with her movement so there was no denying the nod. I said a prayer that I would not make a fool of myself and then touched her lips very softly with mine. I did not want to rub my mask against her sweet cheeks so I kept our kiss very light, even though my head was reeling with the exquisite feel of her warm soft lips on my cold twisted pair. How many times have I imagined this moment?

Our lips only communed for a few seconds, just a small taste of her warmth, and I pulled away to ensure she was not disgusted. Her lashes were down, her lips parted and she breathed out lightly, her fingers tight on my hands as if trying to keep me close. "I knew Raoul did it wrong." I cringed to hear his name after our first kiss. Would it be our only kiss? Why was she not opening her eyes? "Why did you never ask me for a kiss?" She queried softly and I spoke the truth.

"I would rather live forever with unrequited love than lose you to disgust."

Her beautiful eyes opened to gaze at me in wonder. "I will tell Raoul that I cannot marry him."

I couldn't help the surge of triumph and glee at her statement. "Truly?"

"Erik!" Her eyes flashed as she grabbed my shirt front to shake sense into me. "I love you wildly! I thought if I admitted my love, you would feel uncomfortable and turn away from me...stop training me..." She trailed off as I reached with awe to touch her face, tracing the familiar line of her jaw for the very first time with my fingers.

"You? You love...me?" My unbelieving stare must have looked amusing because she smiled and touched my chin affectionately as she nodded happily.

"And you love me?" She asked it as if she couldn't believe her luck, her eyes so hopeful and full of light. I pulled her up out of her seat and into my arms as a powerful sensation rode through my limbs. I spun her around and around, the blanket flying in our wake. She laughed and clung to me tightly, like she would never let go. After a few too many spins, my head was spinning to keep up with this fantastic turn of events. I put her down, but kept my grip on her.

She loved me?!

Talking her out of marrying Raoul was one thing, but she has claimed to love me!

"I love you with every inch of my being, Christine. I am an ugly wretch of a man, but I will warm your heart and soul every night and day with my love." Her answer was a smile that stretched from her mouth to her entire face, glowing from her eyes, and inspired by the sight, I cupped her face to kiss her again. This time our lips melted together, the mask pressed between us and her hands clutched at me, drawing me to her ripe body. My blood quickened and I pulled back with mounting carnal thoughts. She moaned softly as her fingers grasped at my clothing.

"Erik?" She slithered near and I had to bite back a groan. "How do you do that to me so easily? When you sing and when you play and now when you kiss me...It's so...so...Do I do that to you?" She pulled back with curiosity.

"Yes, you do." I wasn't sure what she was speaking of, but I knew the correct answer was affirmative. Knowing that she was choosing me over that fair haired boy was highly arousing, as well as that second kiss we shared after my vow of love. I tried to step back to keep her from feeling my erection, but she moved with me, not allowing me to escape.

"You have been warming my heart and soul for years, Maestro. It felt so right, but I never understood why I felt so good around you." Her gaze was adoring and I reached around her neck to remove the gaudy bauble from her throat. My heart was beating like a drum as I deftly pocketed the ring and replaced her necklace from her father.

"I should not have hid my love from you, Christine."

"Oh, I knew you loved me. I just didn't think you loved me the way I wanted you to love me. Can you forgive me for failing us?"

"Dearest," I cupped her face. "I was weak and afraid, so afraid to lose you that I never even thought to hope you may return my love. But now..."

"Now we love." She closed the distance and kissed me herself. Her lips sought mine with sweet tenderness and I answered with a hunger long held at bay. As I gave into the desire, panic welled up from the raw feel of my want, my tightening grip on her. But she was pulling me closer too, pressing her mouth insistently over mine, pressing the mask uncomfortably to my sensitive face. Not so uncomfortable that I would stop, but the realization that her hunger for me was equal to mine, made desire swell dangerously below the belt. When we pulled apart this time we were both out of breath and my trousers were fit to burst. I swept her up into my arms without thinking and began walking to my bedroom.

"Where are we going?" She asked softly though there was little doubt as to where I could possibly be headed.

"To bed. It is late and we should rest." In each others arms. I expected some form of protest from Christine, but it never came. She was curiously silent as we entered and I laid her out on my bed. There was a moment where I hesitated above her, wanting to shed my clothing as she straightened her thick robe to cover her legs better and glanced around curiously. I did not want to frighten her, so I climbed onto the bed beside her still fully clothed and she rolled to wedge her hands beneath her cheek.

"I have a question." She announced as I propped my head up on my bent arm, the other hand tracing down her arm. "Would you please show me your true face? Have I finally proven my devotion to you and our pursuits?"

Her innocent expression and hopeful gaze kept me from recoiling with angst, and gave me a moment to realize she has been more than patient with me and my insecurities. How many years now has she allowed me to hide behind this mask? I nodded, not trusting my voice, and palmed the mask, popping it off and placing it carefully between us on the bed. By her own admission she loved me wildly, so I tried to think positively as I lifted my lashes to watch her seeing my face for the first time. Her expression didn't really change as she explored my newly uncovered face with curious eyes. She brought one caressing hand to my thin cheek and hummed an appreciative sound. Suddenly, she slid closer on the bed and wound her arms around my neck, the mask lost somewhere in a sea of her hair. "I imagined it much worse than this. Thank you for trusting me."

Her lips reached for me as her eyes fluttered closed and I barely had time to think before I felt Christine's face pressed intimately to mine. My heart thundered with approval and I groped for her body blindly, overcome by the feel of such intimacy. She was the aggressor for a time as I floundered under the weight of her acceptance. I wanted to sob into her bosom for being so constant, for being the light in my lonely life, and now she was laying in my bed, kissing me...

I hesitantly drifted my hands around her waist, bringing her closer. Although her abundant hair called to be stroked, I only played with it for a moment. My hands yearned for her warm shape and softness, and I focused on the exploration down over her clothed back as she arched provocatively, silently encouraging my progression. I kept sweeping my hands over her womanly figure, learning the curves and hearing all the sounds she made as I caressed her and kissed her. Her nimble fingers were suddenly on the buttons of my shirt and I wondered how far this would go. Heady feelings clouded my thoughts as I realized my dreams were coming true. Christine loved me and was removing my clothing, wanting to touch me, lay with me, make love to me. I would make her mine this instant, except that she was a religious girl and must be feeling her sin... Although her dainty hands were tugging the shirt from my pants.

I allowed her to remove my shirt since my body couldn't be any worse than my face, and while she was busy, my eyes strayed down to her nightclothes, imagining the sweet nightshirt of fine material underneath this long, thick robe. Would she allow me to unclothe her? Perhaps just one of her layers? Her robe for my shirt?

She couldn't look at me as I peeled her out of the covering and I realized why when I found her naked beneath the robe. My ears were ringing and I felt a little guilty, but she didn't even try to stop me! My eyes still swept covetously down her body to see the symphony of her skin set before me.

Her slim arms slid around my neck, cutting off my vision of her splendour, but she pressed her entire body against mine, rolling sensuously, her breasts flattened against my chest, so I said nothing. "This feels so marvelous." She spoke the words straight from my heart. "I never want this feeling to end." Her voice had a slight whine to it and I quickly got over my shock so I could capitalize.

"It doesn't have to end." I kissed her neck and ear as my hands split up to cover more of her bare territory. My fingers spread on her smooth back and bottom, cupping, tensing, releasing and roving. "I would make love to you this very moment, make you mine for all eternity, but I will stop at your command..."

Her hand clapped over my mouth. "Blasphemy!" She chirped. "I have loved you for years, Erik! Please, make me yours, my guardian, my angel..." I cut off her words with a probing kiss and rolled her to her back. My hands memorized the feel of her form that my eye had already put to memory. She was incredibly beautiful and perfect. As opposite from me as possible. I traced my fingers to her epicenter and stroked her lovingly. I was entirely unworthy and just as determined to prove to her I could be worthy. I poured myself into loving her, kissing, touching, stroking, and holding her precious body close.

At one point she shook against me, digging her nails into my arms and she breathed out my name as sexual completion, orgasm, rippled through her. I stared at her, fully relishing the sight as my cock jealously swelled to the breaking point.

I wanted to pounce on her, but instead kissed her shoulder nicely, as I only imagined pressing her into my bed with sexual vigor. Her eyes met mine and the dark desire residing in hers was a foreign thing to see. While I was busy staring at those bewitching eyes, her hands attempted to loosen my pants. I rolled away from her enough to strip off my pants, and the smile that spread my lips felt very predatory.

As I rolled back to her, I lightened the heavy mood slightly by singing a little tune I have been working on. "Past the point of no return...the final threshold...what warm unspoken secrets will we learn..." She giggled and shimmied close, with her hands splaying on my chest.

"I love your voice." She whispered, pressing tiny kisses to my throat. My naked erection rubbed against her soft belly and the feel had me wanting more immediately. Right now. No more waiting. I rolled her to her back somewhat deliriously and adjusted us into a suitable position.

I took her chin in my hand and her wide eyes looked startled, but not at all scared. "This act is as binding as marriage." I reminded her of the significance, and when she nodded and watched me expectantly, I flexed my hips and pierced Christine with my sword of triumphant glory.

My mind shattered as her body embraced me. I dimly heard her cry out, and paused to give her time to adjust, but I also needed the time to adjust. The feelings inside me swirled and it was a good thing she wrapped her arms solidly around me, because I felt like I was flying, soaring, breaking from the bonds that held me in this pitiful existence and sketching the light of our love across the sky.

Time lost meaning as our bodies danced to an ancient rhythm, and although I'd imagined something raw and primitive to take my pleasure, I moved slowly, learning and savouring the sensations, and I feasted my eyes upon Christine's pleasure filled features. I thanked God that, of all my body parts He messed with upon my creation, He left my cock alone.

All too soon my soul was rising to tangle with hers. I could feel it building inside me to overtake her. I quickly pulled away from my woman and she whimpered and followed.

"Why did you stop?"

"I had to." She groaned sensuously as she reached for my lips. We kissed ardently for a moment, but I held her off with a chuckle. "My intoxicated flower. I had to stop or I would be...um...finished far before you."

She draped her body half over mine in defeat and sighed. "I felt as if something was looming ahead, but you stopped." She was pouting and another smile curled my face. Not having the mask on was having an effect on my humour.

"We can try another arrangement?" I suggested.

"Arrangement? What do you...whoop!" I didn't let her finish before flipping her around and spooning her tightly, drifting one hand down from her throat to breast, to belly and beyond.

"Another arrangement of arms and legs, and bodies beating in time." The wet swollen head of my shaft was wedged between her thighs and she pressed back against me, innocently offering me a very arousing position. I grabbed her thigh and spread her legs apart as I pressed up into her folds from behind. Her back arched and her hand slapped to my hip to feel the motion of my body riding in and out of her.

"Oh God, Eriiiik!" Her head was thrown back, her nails digging into my skin and her bottom wiggled every time I thrust upward. She was an erotic angel and I was overjoyed that I had the power to make her so.

My soul tried to rush out to meet hers again and I quickly stopped and pulled away. She writhed on the bed in frustration. "You are torturing me!"

"Let us try another arrangement." I quickly pulled her on top of me and her knees slid to each side of my hips. Her mouth opened prettily as my cock jumped against her flower petals. "Would you care to try it this way?"

"I suppose it would feel just as nice as the other ways..."

"Better." I prompted, but her brow came down worriedly.

"How do you...know?" I could see in her eyes that she had an errant thought that I was some philanderer, a masked Don Juan.

"A special book, I will show you later." My grin was naughty, but my focus was her, and her smile returned.

"I have a silly request." She looked hesitant suddenly and I caught her elbows to draw her closer.

"Anything you need, my love. Tell me?" She touched my grotesque face and I was a little shocked to feel her fingers on my skin. I didn't think she could look at me so lovingly without my mask on.

"I love you, Erik. And your face is somehow...familiar to me, as well as being as unique as you are." This was emphasized with a slow caress from temple to chin. "I want to kiss every crevice and cranny...another night. Tonight...tonight..." She reached out and fondly gathered the mask into her gentle hands. She then held the mask out to me. "I want to make love to my Maestro."

I put on the fucking mask.

She rode me like I was her stallion and honestly, I felt like her stallion. She was mine! After years of caring for her, my heart grew to envelope her, which led to years of pining and desperate dreams to keep me warm at night. But now Christine was riding me into the bed! I had to remind myself to stay in the moment and not just lay there in a fit of laughter and tears at how good it felt to finally join with my Christine. I concentrated on her glowing face and when her eyes came back to me I could see all her emotion for me staring back at me, so plainly it was like reading a book. What a glorious feeling to have my desire and want matched by my sweet angel, thrust for thrust.

This time when I felt my very being gathering to charge at her, I didn't stop it or try to hold it back. I rode the wave of power we created and succumbed to our love. Christine cried out as her soul tangled with mine, mating in the final glowing embers of our passion.

She sagged over me, her sweet breath fanning over my mouth. "I love you." Her words were slurred and more than welcome. I thought it might be possible for my heart to burst with love, as my cock just did.

"I love you, my dearest Christine." She snuggled in, content to hold my cheerful penis within her body. I remembered the whole reason she'd emerged from her room and quickly asked as a joke, "Are you warmer now?"

"Much." She wiggled in delight and I remembered another key moment from earlier.

"You may have been cold due to your lack of nightgown."

"Oh, I never wear one. Gets tangled in my legs, bunched around my stomach, terribly uncomfortable, and hot...blah they're the worst. Sleeping naked is better for you anyway."

I wasn't about to argue with any of that and just smiled as I held my prize close. I had to remember to mail that ring back to its owner tomorrow.

With a thank you card.


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's note: Remember that these short stories do not tie together! This is a new manifestation of the phantom phandom :)**

 **Imagine the musical... a man deformed and reclusive, and a dancer thrust into the limelight of a diva...**

 **Now, imagine Christine has just finished her performance and Raoul bursts into her dressing room. What if the Phantom didn't have the courage/time to whisk Christine away? Let's see what might have happened...**

Soulmates

The Phantom could not believe his eyes. On the other side of the one-way mirror he could see there was a man in his muse's dressing room!

How many nights has she danced on that stage and no one cares two cents for her, but one last minute, spontaneous, badly rehearsed performance as the lead singer and she is consorting with strangers!

But, no...

It seemed his songbird knew this man for he convinced her to go out for dinner and off they went, with Christine blushing and laughing. The Phantom stewed for hours behind that mirror, incredibly incensed at her dismissal of regular arrangements and willingness to gallivant with that blond haired sissy boy. He could barely restrain his emotional arousal when she returned, and ended up shouting with an awesome boom of disapproval that she better be present for her lesson the following night, before stalking all the way back to his lair.

How dare she break her promises! How dare she deviate from their routine! And that man she left with? How did she even know him? Why had he never noticed her before now if they truly knew each other?

The Phantom couldn't sleep or eat all the next day as his anger faded and the true nature of his visceral reaction came to light.

He loved Christine.

What meaning did his life have without her?

He pondered how he could have handled it differently. Be suave. Be debonair. Reveal himself? Bring her below? Seduce her?

He needed more information. He needed to talk to his sweet Christine, find out why she would break their arrangements, dash their plans to the air. Unfortunately he would have to wait until tonight, after the show, as was their routine.

What if he did finally reveal himself to her? Could she handle the trip through the looking glass to show her that her Angel is actually the Phantom? Would she ever forgive him for the deception?

His head shook in despair as he knew she never would. He had been an angel for too long to strip his title now, and he would remain her Angel for as long as she wanted him. She was all he had in his lonely existence. He had forgiven her already, for his own despair would overwhelm him in darkness if he did not.

The evening finally came, and he waited nervously in the usual spot behind her mirror for her to finish up the final bows. She came in and immediately locked the door.

"Angel?" She called out and he wasn't ready to speak to her just yet. The anger from yesterday still lingered and he did not want it to colour his first words to her. Better she think herself alone for a moment longer.

She began removing her costume, undressing in the middle of her dressing room! He scowled at this deviation from her normal behavior.

She was usually much more discreet, going behind her dressing screen, but today she was stripping off her costume directly in front of her mirror. When the costume lay forgotten on the floor, she began pulling her hair down, the curls falling to frame her feminine figure.

Had one night out with that man done this to his innocent ingenue? What was she thinking?

Knocking sounded at her door and the handle jiggled, but Christine ignored everything as she finished with her hair and began removing her under garments as well. The knocking faded into the background as Christine stripped herself bare.

He knew he should look away, but his traitorous jealous eyes wished to drink in the sight of his muse, naked before him in all her splendour. He'd never seen such beauty before and he felt his body responding to the symphony of skin before him.

Christine turned and seemed to be checking her body for unsightly marks before she sat at her table, gazing into the mirror as if waiting for someone. The Phantom stared at her pert breasts. Whoever was at the door finally gave up and after a few minutes of watching Christine comb her hair he realized that he was now considered quite late for their usual appointment.

She knew they met every night at this time, so why the hell was she naked?

"Angel?" Christine whispered, watching her face in the mirror. The look on her face was one of fear, longing and determination. He wished he had the courage to ask for her thoughts, puzzle out her complications, and tell her he was a real flesh and blood man ready to hold her in his arms. But his life had honed him into a creature fearful of others. It was only this sweet young thing that made him dream of more. But the world would never accept him and she was a gift to the world. Not a gift to God's unholy creation.

"I am here, Christine." He finally spoke with calm, certain that she would forgive him for his atrocious anger last night.

"Oh, praise God." She sagged in relief. "I thought you weren't coming. Can you see me?"

"I do not have eyes to see with." Seemed a safe answer at the moment.

She looked perplexed. "Then how do you know where I am?"

"I can feel you." He was definitely feeling the affect her nakedness had on him, and understanding dawned on her face.

"Yes. I can feel you too." Her hand rose to the empty air as her eyes closed. "I feel you with me, Angel. I feel so safe, so protected. I feel at one with my soul."

"Christine, I would be with you always, if only..." Her naked flesh was making him say revealing things and he stilled his tongue. "You performed well tonight." He clipped out harshly. "But your high notes still sound weak. You must focus your attention to the task at hand and not be so easily distracted by outside influence." It was the most he would reprimand her for last night since he still felt shame for his boisterous anger towards her. She nodded in total agreement.

"I was not focused." Because of that damn blond fiend... "I was distracted thinking of you."

That threw the Phantom. "You were thinking of me?"

She nodded vigorously and stood from her seat, roaming around her room as if she lost something. "An old friend visited yesterday and caused me to miss our meeting. I'm so sorry. We knew each other as children and it was wonderful to see him, but after speaking to him last night…" She shook her head. "It made me realize how much I've grown. It made me realize..." She turned a slow circle, searching the ceiling and the empty air of her room.

"Made you realize what?" He tried to keep the angry jealousy from his voice at the reminder of that good looking, old friend visiting his Christine and spiriting her away to some fancy restaurant.

"It made me realize...I love you."

Silence filled the air as the Phantom was emotionally staggered by his protege's announcement. She loved...him?

"Angel?" Her lips trembled as she turned another circle, still naked as a jay. "I want something from you. Please, Angel? I have never asked for anything."

"Christine?" He was out of his comfort zone with her naked, professing love and pleading for something.

She knelt gently and reached up to the air. "Take me with you tonight."

The question, 'Is that why you are naked?' was on his tongue, but he had professed to only feeling her. "I cannot." He rasped in horror.

"Please, Angel." She looked distressed. "I have fallen in love with you. No mortal man will ever compare to my Angel. Please take me from my earthly body and let me transcend with you to the clouds." She was still kneeling and reaching to the ceiling as if hoping for heavenly arms to embrace her.

The Phantom did not know what to do.

She opened her eyes after a few silent minutes. "Angel? Are you still with me?"

"Y-yes dear."

"Why do you say nothing?"

"This love is forbidden." He managed to whisper and her eyes glowed with triumph.

"Do you... return my love?" She placed her delicate hand to her chest, with hope burning brightly, and he could not lie to his naked muse.

"Yes."

Tears began to rise in her eyes. "I want to be with you. I want to touch you." She was trying to contain her emotion, but it was bubbling forth. "I yearn for your presence, Angel."

The Phantom had never had anyone speak to him so adoringly and he pressed closer to the mirror, yearning for Christine as well.

"It was not meant to be, my darling."

"I don't believe that. I feel your presence. It fills me with holy power when you are near."

The Phantom wanted to fill her with his holy power.

"Christine..." His sanity was pushing to the breaking point. What could he do?

"Touch me?" She pleaded, as if answering his unasked question, and her hands slid down her neck as his hand slid down his body to feel the arousal in his pants.

"Christine..." He musically moaned her name and she shuddered on the floor.

"Yessss." She cupped her breasts and her head fell back as passion overcame her. "Enter at last, master..."

"Flattering child you shall know me. Lay on your bed, ma fleur." The phantom was practically panting with his desire for Christine, but he still managed to curl his words into a seductive song. "Where your hands seek to bless, my love will spread and possess."

She obeyed her master and as her hands touched her chest and stomach he sang to her of his love. She moaned and writhed on her bed as heat and chills swept through her.

"I feel you around me, Angel."

"Yes, Christine, I am all around you." The Phantom had his hand on his rigid cock as his eyes made love to the woman on the bed. "Touch your sacred place, my love, it will join us together forever."

Her hand hesitated, but it dipped lower and lower, until she found the moist center of her being. "Angel?" She whimpered as her legs spread to accommodate her hand. "What shall I do?"

"Make love to me, Christine." He practically wept with longing. "Love me..."

"I do love you..."

"Let me inside you..." He growled as his hand moved back and forth on his cock.

"I want you inside..."

"Then let me in!" He commanded, and groaned as she dipped her fingers inside her body and arched up off the bed.

"Angel!" She called out for him and he answered.

"My Christine! I am inside you. We are finally one. Now love me!"

"I do! I love you! Angel!" She made frenetic love to herself on the bed while her soul mate pleasured himself in the dark tunnel behind the mirror. They climaxed as one, both of them shuddering with their first sexual release.

The Phantom flicked the semen from his hand as Christine pulled the blanket up over her flushed body. "Angel? Are you still with me?"

He laid his bare cheek on the cold mirror as his love for her encompassed his whole being. "I am always with you, Christine. I will always be your Angel." He crooned lovingly.

"Good. I love you, Angel." She snuggled into her soft, fluffy pillow and the Phantom turned to slide down the wall, curling up in the damp dark of his tunnel, with a rare smile on his face.


	3. Chapter 3

**Another very short E/C bite.**

 **Erik's POV – Coney Island**

I could feel the anger building inside me. My pacing was becoming volatile and I knew if one more person knocked on my door to ask me any sort of question about the rides or the production, I would snap.

This strange world, here on Coney, to which I had become the unwilling king, was sucking every morsel of imagination from me. Nothing seemed to be enough and I was driving myself to the breaking point. I needed solitude and peace to let my mind soar, but lately I was lucky if I got two minutes to myself.

I paused to take a deep breath and attempt to unclench my fists. I needed release. I needed…music.

No one would dare interrupt me in my music room.

My feet hastened me to the piano and I sat with a sigh of relief. My fingers floated over the keys for a moment, relishing the silence around me, before I madly took out my violent emotions on the piano keys. Music flowed from within my heart to pound itself out in a loud, strange, discordant melody. I was merciless with my fingers. They were forced to roughly play on, as I became lost in the eerie turbulence of my heartfelt music. The switch in my mind had been thrown and I was enraptured with song, making love to the notes, and as always happened, She came to me.

Not a word was said as she touched my arm and the keys fell into silence. I looked up into those eyes, those powerfully hypnotic eyes and her hand traced down to my fingers and she tugged lightly for me to come with her.

"Christine?" I was unsure as to her motive, but I was not strong enough to resist my muse. I had never been strong enough to resist her. She pulled me from the piano bench, leading me back towards the bedroom. My heart began to pound as it always did when she looked at me with this expression on her smooth perfect face. "It is not time for bed." I teased, with a lump in my throat, into the oppressive silence as she knelt on the bedding and pulled me to follow. Her arm draped around my neck and her lips landed over mine, urgent, yet still innocent. A groan emitted from my mouth as I pulled her closer. "Christine..."

Her hands quickly divested me of my shirt and those soft beautiful fingers darted over my chest, touching every bit of skin. I shuddered beneath her commanding touch. She seemed to possess a direct link to my fantasies. She knew precisely what I needed and wanted. She had listened to my music and felt me crying out for completion. I held her close as my arousal grew painfully. I wanted to tear her clothing to see golden flesh, but things were usually better when our clothes remained on. Her hands meticulously unraveled the ties of my pants and her cold fingers slid over my erection. My legs trembled with anticipation and I pushed her down to the bed. She bent back at the uncomfortable angle for a second before straightening her body beneath me and taking me in her embrace. Her body undulated in a smooth motion, begging for love, and I let my hands roam over the silky fabric of her dress to cup her breasts, her waist, her hips and thigh. Her hand traced the contours of my chest, as if asking permission, before dipping below my pants line and encircling my swollen cock. As she wrapped her strong fingers around me, she brought our lips together and began stroking.

I bucked in her embrace, ravenous for her love. How was I to live without this? I would have shriveled into madness if expected to go without this release. My hands delved into her hair as I buried my face in her neck and proceeded to fuck her hand.

My goddess stroked me perfectly; pressing her ripe body against me, trailing her free hand down my back in precise, even adoration. I was so close...I held her tight against me and remembered when her flesh was warm and willing that night beneath a moonless sky. My blissful moment ruptured through me and I wanted to cry out her name in remembered rapture...

My imagination had her whispering my name in my ear...

I panted into the flawless curve of her neck and her hands gentled me, as they always did. Her chest did not rise and fall as rapidly as mine and I pulled away quickly, as I always did. This was the strange part. I stood and replaced my shirt as I gazed down at the perfect replica of Christine laying in my bed.

"I love you, Christine." I told the machine and could swear the robot's eyes glistened with affection. She never spoke. She was not programmed to speak. Any mechanical representation of Christine's bell like voice would just shatter the illusion for me. But the Christine doll did smile at me in a very adoring way, and it was enough.

For now . . .

~Inspired by events from Love Never Dies~


	4. Unmasked

**More craftydevilness...**

 **A total mash-up of the musical and my die-hard E/C brain. E is her teacher- as an angel only- until the night of her debut. That darn Raoul visits C and E jealously snatches C through the mirror as soon as R leaves. Basically like the musical. The Phantom takes Christine below. He sings. She sings. He sings more. She follows. He sings some more. Shows her a life size doll in a wedding dress and she faints...since the musical takes a turn for the worse for our favourite couple after the unmasking, I decided to change it! Let us see what happens when Christine wakes up in my rambling die-hard E/C world...**

o-o-o

I awoke and immediately sat up in the unfamiliar bed, straining to listen to the music calling from the other room. It stopped very suddenly in an awkward way and I wondered if part of my dream song had lingered into wakefulness due to my quick rising. With a glance around, I realized I was in a rounded bed shielded with gauzy black drapes. Was I still dreaming? Scattered memories and dreams assaulted me all too quickly and I held my head in my hand for a moment to regroup.

The last solid memory. A standing ovation just for me, and Raoul's stunning smile of recognition in my dressing room.

The thought of his proud face made anger burst quickly, since he had absolutely no claim to my success, so his pride in my performance rankled.

I owed all my ability to my angel...

At the thought of him, heat flushed up my chest and face as I remembered his anger over Raoul's visit and then, like magic...a gloved hand reaching out to mine from my mirror. I eagerly traveled through the looking glass, enchanted, enthralled...

The music started again and I sat up straight, my heart hammering with hope. Was that my angel playing? Was my favourite impossible dream playing out for me in exquisite detail? I pinched myself a few times to make sure I really was not asleep. Could angels draw people into their realm?

I couldn't remember much from last night. My angel sang in my head and lead me into darkness where exquisite music reigned...

The beautifully comprised notes stopped awkwardly again and I randomly thought the pianist must be composing.

I moved as quietly as possible and slipped from the bed, seeing I was still in my slip and robe from after the performance. How did I get into this bed and not remember it?

I looked around the room curiously as a few notes were plucked out in the distance. There were crates and chests all around the room, it appeared to be lived in, with general clutter and clothing scattered about, and on top of one crate a strange little monkey with cymbals, stared with glassy eyes. Would an angel need such a room? There were no windows and not much light. If this was where my angel brought me, then was he not an angel? Was he only a man? And he lived in a cave?

I closed my eyes and concentrated on the memory of Angel's song last night taking me down into a dream too beautiful to bear...it had to be a dream, but if it was only a dream and I was awake now, then where was I?

 _I remember there was mist...candles all around...and in the boat there was a man..._

A mask!

My head shot up as I put one and two together, and came out with the Phantom!

The young girls would whisper about his home under the opera, which I'd always taken for absolute nonsense, and the scene shifters told tall tales about his masked visage, each trying to out do the other with horrific lies. Mme Giry was always bringing notes from him so I assumed he was trustworthy from her point of view, and his suggestions for the music and productions always helped and made the shows better. There was a time I thought that Mme Giry herself was writing those notes, but then the phantom had interrupted rehearsal one day, shouting that we were singing to bring down the chandelier with our awful sound, and Mme looked as white as the rest of us. Carlotta had stormed away and the rest of us had laughed it off, but there were shifty eyes for the rest of that day. It had made me feel that whoever the phantom was, he was not a known member of the staff. But for all of that, the phantom had never seemed sinister to me growing up, although there were those in the opera house who thought him scary and evil, he seemed benign to me.

Could there actually be a phantom living below the opera house? Were phantoms real?

I laughed silently at myself. I believe in angels but not phantoms? I shook my head and tried to assemble the facts. I took my angel's hand. I woke up in this bed. I appeared to be in a cave, or perhaps...under the opera?

Was it possible my angel was the phantom and said phantom an angel? They both shared a love of opera music and both had exacting thoughts on how to carry out said music. I didn't want to let my conclusion run away with me, but to find out Angel might be the phantom of the opera... my whole childhood comforted by my angel came spinning back into my brain. Was the feared opera phantom truly responsible for bringing such light to my life?

It was troublesome to me that I couldn't bring his full image, whether angel or phantom, to mind and yet I must have spent some time with him before I slept? I could remember his music pulsing in my blood, only his music in my mind, and a white mask as a face...the rest was darkness. Why could I not remember something so important? Was he somehow truly a shadowy phantom angel?

I was heading out in search of the random music before I fully thought about my circumstance. In my robe, barely clothed and He was there, at the organ, relaxed, writing, a man as real as I was real. Could it be...?

There is no excuse for my poor manners. I eagerly tore away his mask, and in the process tore off his wings as well. The man who raged at me was not my angel, could not even be mentioned in the same sentence. I huddled in fear and shame. He was hideous! He wore a mask because his face was a death's head...Joseph Buquet was telling the truth...

My eyes could not un-see that face! It was terrible to behold, ghastly and unreal, but the thing that knifed my heart was the fear I read in his deep set eyes the moment I stripped away the cover. Fear in me, and horror that I would so callously tear away his trust...

Tears pressed my eyelids, and I wished my self back to my bed, back to the other bed, just away...but his beautiful voice finally stopped yelling and began curling into a mournful song. His familiar velvet croon soothed my nerves and his words echoed within me.

 _Stranger than you dreamt it..._

Stranger than I had ever dreamt...

A stranger...

I glanced at the man huddled before me, his voice so similar to my omnipotent angel, I briefly lied to myself that this stranger was not my angel, only because I couldn't mesh the two people together. My angel was all knowing, even arrogant in his superior intellect, calm, collected. This broken creature crawled toward me, but he spoke my name at the end of his pitiful song and his beloved voice was unmistakably his. No one said my name quite like my angel did.

I was terrified not only of him, in all his phantom glory, finally before me, but of the conflicting emotions that ravaged me. My hands trembled as I began to hold the mask out to him. He wanted it back, I could tell he wished to cover his terrible face, but then I childishly pulled it back. He tried to cover his face unsuccessfully with one hand as he glanced up at my changed movement, and the gesture was so painful to see, his inability to accept himself was so clear to me, that I couldn't allow him to cover himself up again, as if the mask could make everything better.

My thoughts were erratic and my heart pounded in my chest, but all I could think of was this stranger before me. Who was he? What was he feeling? Why did he yell at me so horribly? Who was this man, angel, phantom and friend? He sang of love and fear, in a halting manner, speaking of heaven and monsters, beasts and beauty...

"Angel?" I couldn't help the questioning lilt. I still was fuzzy on how exactly him and I had ended up in this moment, huddled on the cold floor, with him in tears and me holding his mask away from him in my lap.

His eyes met mine, and I felt the look like an arrow through my heart, all the sadness in the world in those stormy eyes...I could barely breathe at the intensity of his regard and I thought he surely must have heavenly powers to pin you with his gaze so thoroughly. I tried to keep my eyes only on his, but it was impossible not to notice the gaping black hole where there should have been a nose. How did he breathe? How did he sing so beautifully?

I lifted the mask so his eyes flicked to its white surface and then I set it carefully beside me. "I am deeply sorry for the way I took your mask, but I don't want you to hide from me, whoever you are, whatever you look like. It doesn't matter. I would like to know you." The words came so deep from my heart that I know my sincerity shone from within. I needed to know that Voice. I would never turn away from the music of this soul. I used that surety to ground me because my body was telling me to flee and run as the skull like features started to lower in anger. "Please?" I wasn't above begging and it began to look like he would argue with me. "You have no idea how many nights I have prayed that you would be real. I fantasized about it really. Imagined all the ways God would grant me a moment with my angel. This is almost too good to be true." I babbled and watched the features of this mystery man, lift in brief surprise before looking like he would laugh, but then he covered his face with both hands and spoke my name again.

"Christine..." His haunting voice tasted of tears and I couldn't stand his overwhelming sorrow. Why was my angel so sad? Without any thought to propriety or personal boundaries I shuffled forward quickly and embraced my huddled angel. His hands quickly lowered from his face and I realized I had rather provocatively placed my unbound breasts directly against the back of his hands as I put my arms around his head and shoulders. Of course, now we both realized his face was in my bosom and we quickly parted, to stare panting at each other. My tongue wouldn't work and I stared rudely at his strange visage as he seemed to want to stare at me too.

His bare face was frightening, but the more I bravely looked with only open curiosity, the more familiar it became. It happened very quickly I felt. It suddenly felt entirely normal that he would look this way, even with the hole where his nose should have been. The pale thin skin, stretched so tightly, sharply that his features gleamed as if they were only bone in the semi light. He didn't have any eyebrows and one eyelid drooped down to meet with whatever had happened to his lips! His lips traveled up into his nonexistent cheek, fat and bloated, like someone had played with his face as if it was no more than clay.

Yes. His face was a travesty but it was, after all, just a face. And the astonished look in his expressive eyes, like he couldn't fathom my calm reaction, helped me feel he had lived far too long without acceptance. Gone was the fictional fearsome phantom, gone the brief angry madman, gone was the unreachable, invisible angel. Here was a living, breathing dead man, with questions brewing in his eyes.

This whole experience reeled in my head, making perfect sense and yet making no sense at all. So I added to the absurdity by reaching out with my hand. "Hello, I'm Christine Daae."

I glimpsed humour in his mismatched eyes before he delicately joined our hands. "I know." His malformed lips pulling to one side were easy to see without that awful mask covering him and a smile pulled my lips apart, giving me the confidence to tease this unknown entity as his thumb stroked my hand in an experimental fashion.

"And who do I have the pleasure of meeting this evening?" I asked saucily watching his face as he looked up from our hands still linked in greeting to see the smile on my face. He didn't answer me, but I think it was because my smile took his breathe away. Literally took his breathe away. I watched him struggle to get air and then he met my growing worry with his disbelief.

"I never want to wake from this dream." He whispered it softly and my heart ached for my angel. As lost as I was in this new and terrifying kinship we were forging, he was floundering. What kind of life has he known?

"I admit I have thought myself dreaming a few times over this night, but I know I'm not. This is all too strange and fantastic to be only a dream. I'm really here with you, Angel. Do you have a name? I should dearly like to know it so I can stop foolishly calling you Angel." I was begging again, but I didn't seem to care. I also noticed we were still holding hands, but it felt so nice to be anchored to him that it didn't seem awkward at all. Also, if I was holding onto him then he wasn't about to disappear.

He was staring at the mask beside me, but I kept my eyes on his bare face, to show I was not frightened, and didn't care about the mask, and his gaze came back to mine.

"Erik." He said softly, almost in wonder, as our eyes communed our secrets. He couldn't believe he just told me his name, I could tell as much from his expression and although I loved to hear his true name and wanted to repeat it over and over, I moved on quickly.

"Are you also the Phantom?" Here he looked away as if ashamed.

"Yes."

"And my angel?" He looked back into my eyes and I didn't need him to answer, but he did very softly.

"Yes."

"Well..." I studied our hands for a moment and pondered the mysteries of my life. "Thank you."

"I beg your pardon?" He seemed confused by my thanks so I made myself clear.

"Thank you for caring for me. Thank you for bringing me back to the light, for bringing me back to life. Thank you for teaching me, and buying me things, and showing me that there is goodness in the world. As an angel that's all expected of you, but you are just ...just you...and I thank you for being there for me." I was squeezing his hand by the end of it because I didn't think I was conveying my thoughts properly. Would he understand? Could he understand?

"I...well...it was my pleasure. Thank you...for trusting...me." He seemed pained by his words and I took his one hand in both of mine.

"I'm a little star struck to meet you face to face. I thought you were too perfect to ever truly exist, and all my wishes and prayers would go unanswered. But you are here and have been here the whole time. I can't believe how lucky I am. I wish to be your student still, if it pleases you." I added quickly, unsure how he felt about this drastic change in our knowledge of one another. But he was the one to choose this path. He brought me through the mirror...why did he, come to think of it? He didn't seem ready for this level of intimacy, but here we were...

"It would please me greatly to remain as your instructor, and as...your friend." I think he was trying to smile at me, but with no flesh in his cheeks the sight was grim. Or perhaps he didn't really know how to smile and it was coming off more as a grimace.

"I would be honoured." I spoke seriously, but he trumped me with more angelic prose.

"No, Christine, you honour me with your acceptance, and after my deceitful behaviour and dishonesty. I am truly humbled by your constance." He bowed his head and it troubled me to see my formidable angel so cowed.

"You've given me so much..." I didn't want him thinking I only felt indebted. "And you move me with your song." But I didn't want him thinking I was besotted. "I am your friend. Always."

"I can still be your angel, if you prefer to not see..." He halted his telling words and moving on impulse I placed a hand on his withered cheek. He started and his eyes flashed, but I only smiled more. The sight of him before me exhilarated me to a painful degree, and I could see no negative outcomes to our having finally met. I was beyond excited that my angel was truly a man. It mattered little that he was the phantom as that was only pretend theater nonsense. Even the anger he showed when I removed his mask was easily forgiven since I now could see clearly why he wore the mask in the first place. How terrifying for him to live his life with a face like that.

"I would rather know you as Erik." Serenity filled me at the sound of his name on my lips, and he searched my face with bewilderment, trying to understand my actions and failing. He finally seemed to settle on action as he stood releasing me from his hold.

"Come, we must return."

"But I only just arrived?" I instantly regretted speaking, and stood with him, ready to leave if it was his wish.

"You...wish to stay?" His voice held his hesitance and I nodded eagerly.

"I've just found out that my beloved angel is a real, live, breathing man..." I couldn't think how to end that thought out loud so I let it hang in the air for a moment before continuing on. "I wish to stay as long as it is your wish as well, I don't want to burden you." My head was bowed but I kept my eyes on Erik's feet. His very normal looking feet, in normal looking shoes, helped to solidify that he was just a man. A man who looked like death warmed over...

He used the back of his fingers to raise my chin and I looked into his sad, strange face with trepidation. What was he thinking as he stared at my worried face? Who was this enigma that pretended to be both phantom and angel instead of just being himself?

"If you be a burden," his familiar precious voice came soothingly, "I would gladly carry you for all time."

My heart stretched with happiness to hear him so devoted to me, and I wondered if this phantom friend of mine had grown attached to me as I was to him. Did he care for me more than I dared to dream? I found myself staring at him and enjoying that his face was so ugly, whereas Raoul's perfect smile no matter who he spoke to had rubbed me the wrong way, Erik's hesitant friendship seemed so much more poignant since he didn't seem to have any friends.

"So...I am a burden?" I tried to lighten his heaviness and it worked slightly. His lips quirking to my delight.

"Yes. But gladly carried, don't forget."

Don't forget...He reminded me of my memory lapse so I asked since it seemed we were beyond hiding from each other. He didn't seem to want to tell me how he managed to get me wherever I currently was, but I didn't let it discourage me.

"If it's a long story we could sit down?" I gestured towards the fire where seats waited for us.

"Very well." He agreed and we settled down side by side after he tended the fire. He began without any preamble, getting right to the point. "I clouded your mind with my song to bring you down five stories below the opera house." Claustrophobia sprang quickly into my chest at the thought of all the earth above us, but I took a few deep breaths to center myself as Erik carried on. "I didn't realize it would be so effective in dulling your memory."

"Have you done it to me before?"

"There was a few times when you were much younger, but only to stop your weeping, and now that I am aware of the degree it affects you, I swear I will never use my voice upon you in such a manner again."

I believed him. How could I not with his terribly earnest face so close to mine? But having him speak of that moment when reality and fantasy blurred in my mind, only made me think of what came before that. Raoul had angered my angel and the only reason for him to bring me down here, beyond my dedication to our music, had to be far closer to the heart than either of us was ready to admit just yet. But that didn't mean I would ignore what happened either.

"I apologize for Raoul. We were friends as children so I think he felt his actions were not untoward. I do not entertain men in my dressing room. I realize how it must have seemed from the...other side of the mirror..." I stopped talking for fear of saying the wrong thing, but I needn't have worried. Erik was ready to talk to me, his grotesque, eager, bare face stared straight at mine, innocently reassuring me.

"Ask me anything you like. I will be as candid as possible." His eyes bored into me with such palpable hope, erasing the years of hiding from me all too quickly, that I just had to pick at it.

"There must be things you won't speak of?" How rude of me!

"Of course." He chided me with the same all knowing angelic essence in his voice, except this time I was privileged to see how his face softened toward me, and I felt the sight soften a part of me as well. "There will always be those things too painful to name."

Well, I saw no reason to dilly-dally. On to the most important question.

"Why did you pretend to be my angel of music?"

"It was only to comfort you in the beginning. After I began to teach you, your potential became obvious...I thought of revealing who I was, but...I knew I could make you a star, just as you dreamed of. Once you were out on that stage and I saw all the attention lavished upon you...It was difficult to watch from the 'other side of the mirror' as you put it."

"Is that why you finally revealed yourself to me? Were you afraid I would forget my teacher?"

He shrugged in a delicate way, glancing away from the fire. It cast a flickering light over his abnormal face and I wanted him to keep talking, so I could keep hearing my angel speak.

"Why do you pretend to be a phantom?"

"I cannot abide second rate music." I waited for more, for some other reason, power, extortion, something slightly sinister, but he sat patiently waiting for more questions.

"That's it?" There had to be more then that?

"I suppose the theatrical aspect matters as well. Without my help those two fools who run my theater would be bankrupt." I chuckled and carried on.

"Why all the notes? Why not get paid for your expertise?"

He gave me a look that said I was naive or foolish, or both. "My face, Christine. Always, my face."

I met Erik's gaze, his powerful hypnotic eyes causing my words to dry up. His gaze held me immobile as I took in the beauty that could be found in his eyes. They were gray-blue and tempermental as the weather, but one eye was half gold, a glimmer of sun on the horizon, making his eyes seem like different colours altogether.

I think if Meg were to analyze my behaviour, she would say that I practically swooned into his embrace, but I could not control the ache in my soul. I found my hands had a mind of their own as they roved over Erik so I could hold him with my head against his shoulder, my nose in his neck. He smelled of ink and paper, and cedar and dust. His hands did not come up to hug me back, if anything my touch seemed to suck the air and movement from his body, and after a few silent seconds I apologized and slid away from him.

"I'm sorry," I said again. "I'm being very forward. Mme Giry would scold me terribly. I have manners, I swear I do, somewhere..." Erik's hand suddenly touched mine, gentle as a butterfly, tentatively asking a silent question, and I responded as gently but firmly as I could, opening my fingers so our hands could mesh together. Our hands slid together and something so simple, I'd held hands with dozens of people and not felt a thing, but this felt like a glorious miracle. Music sang through me and I smiled at his hand meshed with mine. That was my angel's hand. I was holding hands with my angel. I rested my head on his shoulder and he didn't seem to mind. We stayed comfortably beside each other, staring at the fire until I think I fell asleep again. I woke with a snort as my head dipped and then released a nervous, startled laugh. The sound made Erik jump, but my hand remained firmly against his.

"I'm sorry! I fell asleep." I scolded myself for squandering this opportunity to pepper my real, tangible angel with questions. I just was so comforted by his presence that I wanted to go curl up in that round bed next to him and fall asleep.

"Christine should be back to her bed. Erik never should have brought her here." His words made me feel strange, as if someone was speaking through Erik, but then he sighed, and it sounded so exactly like my angel that I spontaneously hugged his arm to me.

"I am glad Erik brought me here. It's pretty, in a damp, soothing cave-like sort of way, and all the candles really add to the peaceful ambiance. I never realized the opera house was so deep under ground. Did you build this here? Never mind. Why would there otherwise be a home here. You must have built it. So what else have you built? I know you write music too, soulful heart wrenching music..." With this reminder of our many hours practicing music and his elusive song from last night, I turned to look at my teacher again. His horrendous face looked confused and sad, and the ache in my chest intensified.

"I...should bring you back above." Erik spoke slowly, as if resolving to follow through with his words, but I wasn't so eager to leave him. I was afraid if we didn't agree that this was a positive step forward in our friendship then he would revert back to our old ways and I couldn't allow it, I wouldn't allow him to hide from me again.

"I want to stay. In fact, I never want to be away from you." I said in a rush. He gazed at me, but I wasn't sure he was really seeing my resolve.

"What of your old friend? He will worry that you missed your appointment for dinner. He will cause problems. Erik's foolish actions have endangered us."

The thought of Raoul did feel odd. He didn't have a role in the opera I was living through right this moment. He was perhaps a catalyst to my angel revealing himself, but the more I thought of it, the more I knew that Raoul would never understand Erik. Raoul had led a life of privilege, of money, and he didn't even recognize me for weeks after he became a patron. It was only after Erik maneuvered me into the spotlight that Raoul took note of my familiar face. I had been only a dancer to him the day before, unimportant and forgettable, but as the star I suddenly garnered his attention? I could imagine him taking me to parties, showing me off, buying me lavish gifts, but it was a superficial life. It was not how I'd been raised. It was exactly how Raoul had been raised and so would seem normal to him, but I wanted more. I wanted a deeper understanding of love and how it can move you to behave in ways that were unorthodox. A profound sense of belonging with another person, not an existence that remained skin deep.

"Do we have to stay here?" Raoul would cause us problems now. Especially after my sudden disappearance. "Are there others you care for up above? We can just leave here and go make a life somewhere else. I can write to Mme Giry and Meg, we do not need to stay for me." But I was not the only person in our duo. "Do you like it here? If you want to stay I can figure out how to get Raoul off our backs. He can be pretty persistent though..." Erik looked a little shocked, like he was only half paying attention to me as his mind whirled in the background.

"Erik stays only for Christine. She is the light that Erik worships."

"And Erik is the music in Christine's blood." It sounded macabre and possessing, just as strangely uniting as his words, and Erik's eyes seemed to spark back to life.

"Your voice is sublime. A superior instrument of sweet perfection, ringing like..." I put my fingers on his malformed mouth to stop his flowery praise and he was stricken silent by my touch once more.

"And your voice has given me life, light, love..."

We were staring at one another, barely breathing, but our hearts hammered in harmony. I wasn't entirely sure why mine pounded so hard, perhaps my proximity to the skull that served as my angel's face. His lips moved only slightly as he spoke.

"Erik...me...that is...I..." He touched his chest lightly with his long spindly fingers, as his eyes bathed me in their glow. "This creature loves you, Christine."

I couldn't stop the wicked grin from spreading my lips apart. I knew in my heart as joy burst and enveloped that I loved him too. I'd loved him as an angel, and although seeing his malformed face had dampened my desire, I still terribly wanted to know him, be with him, hold him, marvel that he was real, feel his skin, his warmth, his love, his music. I wasn't sure where any of this would lead, but I wanted him on the path with me so badly that everything else was insignificant.

"And this creature," I touched my chest as my eyes conveyed my sincerity, "Loves Erik. You. My angel."

Tears welled in his eyes and rolled down his sunken cheeks. "Erik does not deserve such devotion, such pretty words. No one has ever loved Erik before..."

"I do." I smiled, but he only cried harder. I scrambled for something eloquent to say. "An angel once told me that there will always be those who push you down and step on your dreams, trying to diminish and destroy what they have no right to touch. One must bravely hold to their ideals and inner self, no matter what trials test your strength from the outside, you can rise above because inside you is a power so invincible that as long as you are being true to yourself, no one can harm you or strip you of your dream."

He sobbed, but I thought it had a laughing edge to it. "Words I spoke to a young girl afraid to pursue her dream of singing when she was already only a mediocre dancer."

"Hey now!" I gave him a playful pinch of reprimand.

"Your words, not mine! In my eyes, you are perfection..." And his wet eyes conveyed his spoken words with their adoring regard. "I will take you anywhere you wish, Christine."

My angel knew all about my desire to explore the world. I'd lived those fantasies out loud to his other worldly presence, along with many others, all the while harbouring my own secret fantasy that my angel could come to life.

And now here he was. Always had been. Alive, although his face didn't look it, and staring at me with a level of worship in those sunken eyes, that I didn't feel deserving of.

"Will we still sing and create music?" I wanted it said that music was very important to me, since I knew it was to him as well.

"Of course." He scoffed lightly.

"When can we leave? Tonight? I should go pack."

He chuffed and I realized it was his way of laughing. "We must warn a few people of your departure, but we should be able to leave by tomorrow evening."

"Sounds like a wonderful plan." I beamed.

His eyes were full of hope and light and I resisted the urge to muss his sparse, dark hair affectionately. He seemed unused to such easy touches, skittish as a kitten, and I had to remind myself to tread lightly.

"We must formulate the plan together. What will you tell your friend?" He said the word like it tasted bad and I schooled myself to keep a straight face. Now that I knew of Erik's impossible love, getting rid of Raoul would be easy.

"I could meet him in person and tell him I am much too devoted to my music to go to dinners with him or any other functions. Writing a letter won't be enough I'm afraid. He is quite keen to rekindle our friendship. I noticed him weeks ago when he first came, but found him changed. I watched how he behaved, how he preened, but he only took note of me last night, and now he thinks I've been waiting for him to notice me this whole time..." I could hear the bitter edge to my voice and I reminded myself that I had something much better than Raoul's fleeting affections, although every dancer above would think I am crazy.

I gazed up into Erik's terrible face and even though I was only beginning to know this unreal face, I trusted it completely. His emotions were too raw to be false, his feeling shone out from his eyes. He would never lead me astray, had always given sound counsel, would see to my safety and protection. Bottom line, he cared for me and I cared a great deal for who he represented in my life.

"I want to say goodbye to Meg too, and Mme Giry. And I need to pack. What must you accomplish before we leave? Can I help you at all?" I was earnest in my offer but he shook his head gently.

"I can manage my end. But I need one favour from you."

"What is it?"

"Please take a chaperone to your meeting with Raoul. I don't trust that fancy fop. You said yourself he has changed from how you knew him." It was adorable to watch his ghastly face fuss over my care and I was enjoying his concern until his brow began to furrow, his eyes darkening. "If I had a face, I would escort you myself..."

I found my fingers on his lips again, cutting off his ability to breathe, and sending his eyes wide with surprise. I gently touched the red bloated surface with a determined caress. "I see only my angel when I look at you." It was the truth. My angel happened to be a living corpse, but it was a small detail. His lips were warm and from the terrified look on his face, he more than likely didn't want me touching his mouth, half in his lap. I don't know why I was perversely wondering what his lips tasted like, but I knew I couldn't assault Erik to that degree. When he finally kissed me I wanted him involved and not shocked...

Did I just plan to kiss my angel? My living corpse phantom angel?

I sat back from him with a thud and my head felt light. Declaring my love for him was easy. I truly loved my angel. Declaring desire on the other hand...

Angels were above desire. But a man? A man with music in his soul that challenged mine to rise to the competition.

"You have always been so pleasantly distracting. But a chaperone is required for me to agree to this." He chided in his knowing angel tone.

"I will ask the Girys. One of them will help me, or both. Raoul wouldn't know what he got himself into." I laughed distractedly, and Erik noticed my inattention immediately.

"What are you thinking of, dreamer?" My angel repeated his oft spoken line and it brought a sad smile of remembrance to my face.

"Imagining the future and how far away it seems from this moment. And I think...we should sing now."

"Now?" He huffed and took out his pocket watch. I glanced at the face and saw it was in the wee hours. Perfect.

"Yes now, Erik." I was determined to get my way and began pulling him up, when I noticed my scandalous slip and robe combination again. "Do you have any clothing I could borrow? I'd like to go up to the roof with you and sing to the skies." My words emphasized by a large arm sweep at the cavern ceiling, and he mumbled about the chests in the bedroom with a flick of his fingers. He looked worried so I reassured him. "No one will be around. I promise."

"How can you know that?" He gained back some of his angelic air. "There are always people roaming about at all hours."

"Not up there. Too cold, I think. I've never ran into anyone when I go."

"When do you go up to the roof?" He sounded genuinely surprised.

"All the time, but usually in the middle of the night when I can't sleep, one, two, three o'clock." His brow was furrowed in concern as he imagined all my unchaperoned midnight trips to gallivant on the roof tops of the opera house. "I always felt safe because I had an angel watching over me, and it's silent as a tomb up there anyway. Let's go."

I started off toward the room I woke up in, hoping he would follow. Some of those chests did look like costume chests, so that must be where the clothing was...

"Christine Daae!" Angel Erik was cross with me and I scurried the rest of the way to the room and began searching for something suitable to wear in the gloom. "You cannot run away from me." He called out a few moments before he darkened the doorway.

"Nor would I. Could you light more lamps in here, Erik? It's too dark to see what I'm looking at." I hoped distraction would work, but I should have known better. He lit more candles as he lectured me about safety and traipsing about unattended during the witching hours. I didn't know how I could possibly want to kiss someone who acted so much like my father, but I silently let him rebuke me for my foolishness as I searched the crates.

I found many costumes from the opera house above and found a dress and cloak to fit me. They were a little fancy for my taste, with jewels and sequins sewn in wandering patterns to catch the stage lights, but because they were theatre clothing they were made for quick dressing. No complicated lacings or corsets to deal with and in my haste to ready myself I whipped off my robe right in front of Erik.

His shadow left the doorway with a scrambling sound and I called out to him. "I'm sorry! Don't go anywhere! Please! I will be fast."

I was, but Erik was not in the hall when I emerged. I found him crouched close to the piano and when he turned at my noisy step he had the white mask on his face. He rose to his full formidable height and straightened his clothing.

"I know you asked that I not hide from you, and I swear to you that is not my intention in donning my mask once more. This mask is to hide from the rest of humanity. Not from Christine."

"I understand." I nodded slowly and smiled encouragingly. "Ready?"

Erik led me through his magical kingdom up to the roof. We weaved through the walls and floors with ease and he held my hand to ensure I wouldn't slip or stumble. He looked back at me a few times, the white mask glowing in the darkness, and music tickled my memory...

 _Do I dream again? For now I find..._

He was the phantom suddenly, stalking through his theatre, with his student on his heels. The roof could have been his idea with the way he forged us ahead, and it was unoccupied, as I'd promised. I released Erik so I could stretch out my arms and revel in the night air. He stood in shadows with his arms crossed over his chest and I danced around in the moonlight as I hummed to myself, warming up my throat while I cut glances at my newly acquired guard. The mask was too large, it covered his entire face except for a rounded cut out over his lip area. It did give him a false nose so the mask had its uses, but the eye holes made his deep set eyes seem even farther away, so the dislikes far outweighed its usefulness.

"I cannot believe you were coming up here alone." He finally spoke. "Your reckless behaviour..." He still sounded upset about it so I began to sing, hoping that he would feel the urge to join me, as he did so many times before.

" _No more talk of things past, forget all of your fears. I'm here, with you, beside you, to love you and to guide you..._ " I let my words end, waiting breathlessly for him to weave his poetic words into a song that we could share.

His velvet tenor melded with the night and a rush of pleasure flooded my face to know it was a real, live man singing to me and not an untouchable angel. " _All I want is freedom. A world with altered sight, and you, always beside me, to love me and to guide me_..."

Our voices blended as one, sending shivers down my spine as we spoke of spending our lives together, walking side by side, he my guardian, and me his guide. Striving to claim a life his face denied.

We would succeed. I felt it like I felt my own heart, beating down the centre of my being as we unleashed our love of song to the sky. With him beside me, I could fly.

He slowly came towards me as we sang and in the moonlight the mask gleamed brightly, innocently hiding the horror beneath, but I found myself wanting to see the emotion his raw features held. I'd quickly become addicted to the grotesque sight of him. He was my mystery to discover, and mine alone. It was easy to assume I was the only person to ever accept his bare face with his dramatic reaction to everything that happened this evening. When he arrived just opposite me I automatically lifted my hand to hold one of his. Although our singing had ceased I felt as if the music kept on. My heart hummed with happiness and I dreamed that we would travel to Italy, Russia, the Orient and beyond. We would explore the world, making music and finding peace with each others company.

" _Softly, gently, night unfurls its splendour..."_

My body was already swaying in time as Erik began to sing with animation in his golden vocals.

" _Grasp it, sense it, tremulous and tender..."_

My angel made love to me with his song. It was the only way to describe what I experienced in those moments he touched me gently and sang of the music of the night. The song seemed to already reside within me as we danced around the roof together, and I sang with him off and on, the sky a witness to our impossible love. My heart and soul soared when he commanded them to and when he finished a very long last note I turned, spellbound, wanting to see his beloved visage before me. I saw the benign white mask on his face and wanted to rip it off all over again.

Instead it gave me a wicked idea that I wasted no time in implementing. I caught his masked face between my hands and kissed the cheek of the mask, one was not enough and I planted a dozen over every part of his mask I could reach. I hoped to encourage its removal and also let him know that kissing was part of our friendship now. I met his eye bravely and he was the one who looked spellbound now.

"You are a sorceress." His hands were more confident after his song and they slipped about my waist to hold me against his body possessively.

"Sorceress?" I laughed lightly lifting my hands to his chest where I may have cuddled myself closer. "I cannot perform magic."

"The magic you speak of is only slight of hand." He snapped his fingers and a plump red rose sat in his palm, which he promptly tucked into my hair. I reached up to touch the velvety petals with awe. "The magic you hold can change a person, change his attitude, change his stubborn mind. That is a powerful magic." He gazed at me as he ran his fingers over my hair and temple in a loving caress.

"And how have I changed your stubborn mind?"

"I find myself regretting that I replaced this mask." I thought maybe he was trying not to smile behind the mask and it drove me crazy that I could see nothing of his face. Just this blank farce with burning eyes, and a glimpse of his lips moving.

"Take it off then. Treat it like an accessory. On one moment, off the next. Face is cold. Face too hot." I kept my quips short and supportive because my heart was hammering again.

"Very well..." He half turned and slid it from his face, tucking it into a pocket of his cloak. Immediately his profile changed to the flat familiar gaping hole and his eyes flicked to mine for reassurance. A smile played with my lips but I was concentrating too hard on Erik to rejoice in my victory. I brought his hands back around my waist and then put my hands on top of his arms, looking up into his living face with breathless anticipation.

He held me against his body, his fingers dragging up and down the curve of my back, as he gazed indulgently at me. "This is the start of a new life together."

"I look forward to every moment."

"You will sing for me and I will write glorious songs for you."

" _I will help make music of the night_..." I couldn't help copying his beautiful tune and this time it was his hands that bracketed my face. He seemed slightly scared of his actions and I serenely watched his expressive twitches as he brushed his lips on my forehead. His eyes were closed in concentration and as much as I wanted to close mine and revel in the intimacy of this shared moment, I wanted to watch my angel become a man. His bloated lips met my brow a few more times until he figured out how to purse his malformed mouth in such a way to press a stamp of love upon my hairline. Tears gathered in my eyes as I thought of how easy giving a kiss was for me. I'd given and received hundreds of kisses in my life. These fumbles must be Erik's firsts.

His lips tentatively met my temple and cheek, turning my face one way and then the other way so he could place a careful kiss on that temple and cheek as well. It was painfully sweet to feel the hesitance in his actions, his disbelief, his simmering joy. I took charge and turned my lips up to receive his. He paused there with his eyes still closed, for he felt me turn towards him, he had to know I wanted to taste his lips and I felt the heat flush through me as all this tension rippled my hands up to hold his face too.

His eyes shot open then and we stared, a scant inch between our open mouths. I dreamily wanted to close that distance, but my touch on his face had frozen him again so I waited somewhat impatiently for him to gain his breath and courage once more. He finally did in song form.

" _Beyond the point of no return..."_

I was a little strained from this power struggle and so didn't comprehend his wording. "If by return, you mean to how it was before, then you can just forget that nonsense! There is no way I'm going to pretend I don't know you exist when my very soul dances to the intimate music inside of you..."

His lips cut off any further ranting and my brain melted as my angel crossed over and became the man in my arms. I gathered him to me in my fever to feel all of him, but he quickly broke away. We searched each others face, I don't know why he searched mine, but I searched his to make sure he was still alright and not suffering an attack. This was a lot of touching and he could get overwhelmed if I drew him down to my lips for another kiss...

But it was he who leaned in and pressed his newly learned purse upon my waiting mouth. I eagerly kissed him back, pressing my lips to his over and over to make sure each rough and soft surface felt the brush of my lips, just as his mask had.

I couldn't help giggling as I nuzzled into his neck, embracing him to my heart. I could feel his heart pounding and he was trembling too as he kept a tight grip on me, his long hands splayed over my back.

"Marry me?" He asked breathlessly, and I pulled back to look up at him, radiant joy effusing my expression.

"Yes! I will." I nodded until his hands bracketed my face once more to bring our lips together. His kiss was sweet and soft, like he thought he was over stepping his welcome, but had to kiss me again, try it again. I started smiling too widely to keep our lips connected so I started babbling happily. "I will marry you, Erik Angel. We were meant to be together, meant to make music together, meant to soar through life on the wings of our song."

"My last name is not Angel." He chuffed at my exuberance.

"And what will my new surname be, good sir?" My grin was catching apparently, as his

one side curled upward.

"Lauzier." The name swirled prettily on his tongue, and when I repeated it in my head it suited my name perfectly.

"Well, Erik Lauzier. It has been a pleasure to make your acquaintance and to become your fiance." I laughed out loud and the joyful sparkle in his face couldn't just be the moonlight dancing on his features.

" _Anywhere you go let me go too. Christine Daae, I love you._ "

o-o-o

 **Now for some Erik POV – just because I wanna...**

o-o-o

I stood on the other side of the mirror watching Christine's face as she let down Raoul gently. He tried to bully her into complying and my fingers twitched for action, but Christine laughed off Raoul's pressing and told him pointedly to mind his own business. They haven't known each other for years, he didn't know her at all, she was devoted to her inner music, he should remember that about her...

She spoke about her dedication to music. Raoul would think she meant actual music, but I felt as if music somehow equalled me in her mind. Her face was radiant with happiness and I should have told her to try to tone it down a little in front of the fop. Any man would find her stunning in her joy, let alone an old friend who knew the goodness her heart held.

My heart ached and I had to put my hand there to stem the pain I felt. How could she still look at me as if I was her angel? How could she keep that love and devotion in her eyes while looking at my travesty of a face? She even kissed...

I glanced at Mme Giry who was listening to every word Christine spoke with a steely gleam in her eye. She was fact checking and trying to ascertain if Christine was being coerced in any way. Meg sat to one side of Christine with a vacuous look on her face. I wasn't sure what Christine had said to the two ladies since I was below gathering what we would need for our journey when she approached them. Getting Raoul to meet her had been easy as well since his feathers were so ruffled by her departure last night. He looked to have not even gone home and I was glad I never delivered those phantom notes I wrote to go along with Christine's disappearance. It would seem her departure caused enough trouble without any notes to fan the flames.

I felt so centred since singing with Christine on the roof, and the unexpected after math of her lips pressed to my mask. That one gesture of her pure love had rotated my axis enough to see her love for me had transcended my sudden existence and my face, to remain unscathed. In this cold dark uncaring world I had the light of her love to see us through. My face no longer mattered since it seemed to matter little to her. I couldn't fathom the stomach it must take to stare at my grotesque image, even I could not stare into a mirror for long, but Christine could gaze at me like I held the stars in my eyes. She pressed her sweet lips to my disgusting...

I turned away with one hand on my mouth, gagging at the thought of kissing myself. What a rare treasure I have been given? She will be properly worshipped and protected.

I leaned close to the mirror and glared at Raoul's smooth face while he tried to find out where Christine was travelling to. We had both agreed that we must tell him of her plans to leave the opera, so he wouldn't bother those left behind overly much. She reminded him that he was being nosy and my lips turned up at her adoring rudeness. She just said whatever she pleased, had always been blunt and overly chatty, although clever enough to know when not to open her mouth. Just the sort of person a brooding melancholy man needs to brighten his lonely days.

The ring glinted on her finger and I could hardly believe she was wearing the ring I'd purchased for her. A ring that she was not ever to know about or see. A ring that now symbolized her constance and my never ending idolatry. We seemed to worship each other, which was fine by me since her love was much warmer then anything I'd ever received from God.

Raoul stood to pace as he named off the reasons why Christine should remain in Paris and she glanced at me, where she thought I might be and rolled her eyes, giving a small smirk before schooling her features as he turned. Laughter huffed in my lungs and I found I was becoming used to the feeling. Christine had the power to alter my attitude toward life, toward myself. She gave me the strength and support to reach for a life and I was forever grateful for her strength.

She had long been the only light in my life and I had very nearly tarnished and dimmed that light with hasty actions. When I clouded her mind last night and brought her through the mirror I hadn't been thinking clearly. I was jealous of the attentions lavished upon her and angry that I couldn't be the first to congratulate her success. I was confused by Raoul's visit, when she had often assured me she was devoted to music. To see her so excited to see the man that now paced her room, I'd wanted to trade places with him. I'd hated him immediately for being where I wanted to be. For being real to Christine.

And then we sang to each other as angel and student and I knew that with music I could always have Christine all to myself. With barely another thought I'd brought her through the mirror to meet me for the first time, her mind clouded and her body scantily dressed.

Without even trying, without being aware, she wove her gentle spell of acceptance over me, I only had to be in her presence to feel her power over me. My desire to make her mine had overwhelmed my every sense. I'd sung to her, touched her delicately, worshipping her form while she was powerless to resist. When I thought of it now, it seemed like rape and though we repeated and improved on our strange duet up on the roof, I couldn't forgive myself for those innocent touches. I was glad she had no memory of my blunders. A Christine doll in a wedding dress? Why would I show her that?

I did pack the wedding dress since we would need it soon, but placed the doll in my coffin, closing the lid with finality.

My old life was dead. My new life shone like a beacon as she escorted Raoul firmly to the door, saying goodbye with a trilling laugh before slamming the door. She thanked Mme Giry and Meg for witnessing and then stood before the mirror with her hands on her hips. I could see she was afraid I wasn't on the other side, she was trying to hide her fear, but I read it in her eyes.

"Come out, come out where ever you are?" She singsonged to cover her worry and I made sure my mask was in place before sliding the mirror out of the way. She leapt into my embrace and Mme Giry took hold of her daughter as I ushered Christine back into her room so the mirror could close.

"Ladies." I nodded in their direction, noting that they both looked frightened. "I commend you on keeping your patience, Christine. He really is full of himself to presume to tell you what you can and cannot do."

"I know!" She laughed again and let her hand trail down my chest. "He really was too much, although it was nice to see that he is well. Papa did always like the Raoul from that other time, in another far off place." Both the Girys looked confused and I smirked behind my mask. I was blessed with understanding Christine's rambles. It was only part of the gift we were discovering in each other.

"Well, I didn't care much for him."

Christine smiled up at me with a mischievous light. "If not for Raoul, I never would have met you face to face, knowing how stubborn you are, so I will always hold Raoul close to my heart for being so brash." Her lips pursed easily to set a kiss upon my ear since the rest was covered and she mumbled for my ears only. "But not too close. Don't be silly."

Love is a powerful force, a driving force, a destroying force, a rebuilding force. It takes on many faces just as I can change my face to suit our needs.

She prefers to see my deformity when we are alone, spouting some nonsense about my emotions and reading my features, knowing it is me for certain instead of wondering who resides behind the mask. She acts as if I am still her angel and perhaps in a sense I never stopped being her angel. I still care for her in the same way except I now have a much deeper understanding of love and devotion, of loyalty and sacrifice.

We will be married soon, and I can imagine that our lives will continue to be as easy as the beginning was. Christine has saved me from my lonely life of darkness in more ways than one. She will have anything her heart desires and at the moment, her heart desires me above all else. Who would have ever thought that I, Erik, deformed phantom of the opera and part time angel, would end up with the most beautiful talented wife in all the world?

It feels as if my life is ending, the life I knew, where I existed for so long, it is all coming to an end so fast. Our wedding will be a new birth for me and the journey I embark on with my Christine at my side is a beginning that I never imagined. Song bird and phantom angel destined to raise our song together, forever more.

o-o-o

 **Blunt ending but I ran outta juice...and time. And I apologize if there are mistakes or it doesn't flow in places...I wrote it kinda fast and then just posted my blurbing. Hope you enjoyed my rambles! Leave a lil hello to let me know :)**


	5. Who Are You

Author's note: This is a random innocent shorty inspired by the musical...let's all imagine the musical as it flows along, stopping for a night of reflection right after the masquerade. Here I take my creative license and give you a God's eye view of the characters inner turmoils...

 **Who Are You**

He watched from his dark vantage point as the Vicomte ordered a carriage. He had managed to elude the boy this evening and eavesdrop on their pathetic plans to take down the phantom. All of it was quite illuminating and he itched to let them know he was privy to their secrets, but knowledge was power in this game they all played. If only things had gone more smoothly with Christine.

He was ashamed of his wrathful behaviour and needed to make amends with his student. After six long months of staying away from her, he realized that she was not as happy as he thought she should be. Her face was pale and there were shadows under her once vibrant eyes. She looked dull overall and the dress did nothing for her either. Too poofy and too pink, he was certain that boy had picked it out for her. He watched her for most of the evening, couldn't help it. She was his favourite narcotic and he had held off for six exhausting, endless months. Tonight, he had his fill of staring at his student, studying the change in her with interest. She seemed thinner than he remembered, pale, slow, weakened. With worry clawing at his throat, he'd known then, he would approach her at some point during the masquerade to determine if she was ill. Just as he now knew he must go and apologize to her for brutally taking the ring.

First he needed to make sure that the Vicomte was well and truly gone from the building. He wanted no interruptions when he spoke to Christine. If he could only find the courage to actually do it...

Raoul felt his masculinity right down to his toes as he rode home from the lengthy masquerade evening. It had started wonderfully with Christine in her theatrical costume, plenty of dancing and drinking, with a wide variety of gaily costumed ladies. His future fiance was the toast of Paris and he couldn't help the swell of pride, that he had always known the rare beauty of her voice. Ever since the first time he heard it rise to join her father's violin, he knew it was a treasure. It was too bad they had lost touch for so long, but he was back in her life now, by some divine intervention, and would see that she was cared for. She no longer had to be alone. No one else in his spoiled rich boy's life had managed to touch him in the same manner as Gustave and Christine Daae. There was just a joyful energy to them, especially when they made music, that sucked you into their world with them. When Christine finally opened up to him and spoke of her father's death so many years ago, the pain was shared between them, and Raoul saw his path, suddenly glaringly obvious. Christine Daae had the power to move him, and so he gave her grandmother's ring. Then that fiend in his fancy red costume interrupted a lovely evening celebrating and stole the damn ring.

Raoul was furious, and to make matters worse for him, Christine didn't seem to care. She was in a fog after that moment, left early to go lay down, which was fine with him. Perhaps seeing the phantom had terrified her, but he didn't have time to determine what feminine frivolity had her trapped in her mind. He had business to take care of.

The ring would be returned or taken back by force. The rag-tag conference had gone long into the night, the opera managers still in costume, and the gendarmes and Raoul creating a plan to end this phantom fellow. He regretted that Christine would be acting as bait as they readied Don Juan Triumphant, but it would ensure the fiend's capture.

Then he would marry his Christine and for the rest of his life have her precious voice ringing in his ears. He wouldn't think of how distant she was tonight, or that she technically hadn't said yes yet. Minor details to clean up on another day.

As Raoul rode home, Christine sat with her head in her hands, tears slowing ceasing as she contemplated the tangled knots of her life. How could she be in this position? Her father had always warned her to follow where the heart goes, it was how she lived, how papa taught her to be. Nothing else in life truly mattered except for that feeling in your heart, but somehow she herself had wandered too far from her own heart. She took a shuddering breath and stared at her reflection. Who was that strange girl in the mirror?

She wet a cloth and scrubbed the make-up off her face, still wanting to cry. This mad situation just wasn't fair. Actions and reactions, too hasty to be true, too frivolous to notice the depth, too fuelled by anger. Just like that first and last time she met her angel.

She closed her eyes to better remember the beauty of that night so many months ago when her angel became a real man and took her down below into his magical realm. They sang to one another, touched each others souls, and although she became overwhelmed, she thought he meant to marry her. His song about creating night music and his life size doll...

But then one little unmasking and he returned her above with no further contact and abandoned her. As if his face even mattered, it was his soul she had fallen in love with. And now he thought she was engaged to Raoul by her own choice.

In retrospect, saying yes to even one of Raoul's invitations was the wrong thing to do. But she had been angry, so angry that the rumours of the phantom being a cur were true. He successfully played an angel, led her along, won her over, seduced her, then killed a man and abandoned her, and so in defense, in retribution, she had accepted Raoul's invitations out with relish. She was mad at her Ange, not only for deceiving her and being no better than a murderer, but for forging emotion within her heart towards a heartless man.

Now that she had laid eyes on him again, after months of thinking him a fantastic dream, it was clear that he was real and in no way had abandoned her in his passionate heart. His eyes had burned with warmth behind his skull shaped mask, and Christine felt her heart accelerate with longing. She floated toward him as his eyes absorbed the sight before him, cradling her in his concern.

She looked happy to see him when he thought it could not be possible for anyone to find joy in his presence. A silly smile wanted to curl his lips as she stopped directly in front of him, smiling with a foreign emotion in her eyes. It almost looked like relief.

He meant to speak to her, he meant to explain his long disappearance and how he had missed her. He wanted to steal a dance with her, touch her like he did the last time, pretend that he was just a patron out for an evening of fun, although that dream would be a tad difficult after the overly dramatic delivery of his opera. Unfortunately, he noticed the ring before a single word could be spoken.

She rubbed the sore spot at the back of her neck where the necklace broke from force. Everything he sang was true, and she wasn't mad that he took the ring. Mad that he had the wrong impression of its presence around her neck, but she was glad it was gone. Its unwanted weight had begun to feel overwhelming.

She cared for Raoul, as a brother, as a friend, and only her anger at Ange had led her down this stray path. When Raoul got down on his knee and gave his pledge, reality had smacked her in the face. She had been playing with fire, hoping her outlandish behaviour would have Ange sweeping her back under his wing. Wasn't he supposed to save her from making illogical decisions? He had done so for so much of her life that she felt unloved without his protective presence. How many times did he advise her on her life's path? And to suddenly have no input from her angel she felt lost.

How many times did she pound on the large mirror in her dressing room for Ange, phantom, whatever his name was, to come back. Please come back and make sense of her life again. Please come back and prove she wasn't insane.

Now she knew he truly lived, that night wasn't a dream, as Raoul had convinced her. His voice wasn't just a manifestation of her grief. The phantom was real and the phantom was her angel.

She stared at the mirror and wished he would come so she could explain. That ridiculous ring was only around her neck because she said no and Raoul wanted her to think on it. She was going to give it back to him soon, just long enough that he would think she had thought about marrying him, when in reality there was only one changeling she had imagined marrying. First he was an angel, then a phantom, then a murderer...he already had a dress for her...

Little did she know that her angel was indeed present behind the mirror, watching her for a few long minutes while he gathered his humble bravery around him. He may not have her heart, but her voice, that beautiful sound of homecoming that wrapped him in velvet tones. He could gain sustenance just from listening to her sing. He had to wage a battle for her voice, it was the angle he would play when he finally roused the courage to gain her attention. He would remain her teacher.

Please allow the lowly creature to remain your tutor...

A noise at the mirror startled her and she realized it was a knock, two quick raps much like a conductor would give his stand to get the orchestra's attention. She scrambled up from her seat, checking her hair and fixing her dressing gown before she said, "Come in."

The mirror slid away and his hand held it open, giving a marvelous view of his magnificent stature in the opulent costume. The skull mask had been replaced with the regular white one and he seemed to be waiting for another invitation now that there was no question who was knocking. Christine was slightly tongue tied at his splendour, but managed to repeat her invitation with a nervous wave of her hand. "Please, come in."

He stayed silent as he glided into the dressing room, and she held her breath waiting to hear his voice.

She loved his voice, wished so many nights that it was attached to a man instead of an angel. Wished the voice would hold her, cherish her, resonate within her. Why did it never occur to her that her angel and the phantom were one and the same? She could see why Meg thought she was dense. Ange was always so polite and proper and wonderful, why would she ever think the elusive phantom of the opera was masquerading as an angel. But he was and he did, and apparently he still was playing the phantom, even though no one had seen him for six long months while he attempted to distract himself from wanting to see Christine.

There were so many questions they both had for each other, but where to start, and frankly she wanted him to talk first. She had waited so long to hear his angelic voice again.

"You looked lovely tonight, Christine."

Compliments were always a good place to start, and her cheeks heated.

"Thank you, Ange."

His expression tightened from what she could see, and she wanted to swallow her tongue. Who was this man who stood before her? How could she so easily call him angel when she knew he was a deceiver, a phantom, a murderer...

"I have come to offer an apology for my behaviour tonight, and every other night of our acquaintance. There is much to atone for but please, do not allow my actions to cause you to turn from your teacher. You still require a great deal of instruction, especially with the difficult key changes in my opera."

When the mystery man spoke, she only saw her angel before her, even though she knew her angel had never existed. This man had the voice. He was the one who had spoken to her, taught her, comforted her, counselled her, never asked for anything in return and even propelled her onto the stage where she could garner larger wages and perhaps even make a name for herself...

"I know there was a time that I was a beacon of light for you, I gave you hope and beauty as an angel. Now the truth is revealed. I am only made of darkness and death."

He was looking down at his clawed hands as he reminded her of the death he caused. There must have been a good reason for her angel to kill that man. She felt a pang that she never gave him a chance to explain before. She went straight to the roof and foolishly sang with...

"Can you truly forgive your angel? Is that why you still call me Ange and allow my distorted presence before you?"

She was quite enthralled with everything about him, his arrogance, his height, his posture, his polite poetic apology, even the grace and agility of those death dealing hands. Christine nodded as she pondered what to say exactly. She couldn't make sense of any of his strange behaviours towards her, let alone her own feelings towards him. Everything was too intense, too spellbinding. Her heart, even now, was racing just to have him before her. How could she possibly dissect why he would take her below, but bring her back up and suddenly leave her after teaching her for years, and then abandon her completely? Yet here he was apologizing, trying to mend things between them and continue tutoring her. She wanted to smile as hope filled her, before she remembered she had her own things to apologize for. He only abandoned her after Buquet's death and that silly, stupid farce on the roof...

The man in the red death costume reached into a cleverly concealed pocket and delicately removed the ring and chain, now separated and newly mended, sparkling serenely on her powder table, as his black fingers withdrew, her eyes darted back to his masked face, where his intent gaze held her captive.

"You are," he paused briefly. "Of course, permitted to marry whomever you choose. Please forgive me for overstepping. My temper...is deplorable..." He trailed off painfully and Christine's heart was in her throat. "I fixed your chain, I know it is the one from your father. Forgive me for that as well..." His burning eyes were assessing the expression on Christine's upturned face, trying to determine why she had yet to say a word. "Did I hurt your neck?"

"No." Her hand darted to unconsciously touch the area in question. "Well...a little. But it will be fine." She quickly brushed off his concern and he pressed.

"Let me see the damage I have caused." His voice ordered and she didn't want to comply but had no choice. She turned and gathered her hair so he could see the angry red line on the back of her neck, but she quickly turned back and met his troubled eyes again. "Please forgive me." He whispered as if it was hard to breath and Christine lifted one dainty hand to briefly cup his masked cheek, showing that she fully forgave the act.

"Thank you for taking it off of me. The weight of it was becoming unbearable."

The man's eyes were wide and a bit wild, and Christine hoped he didn't think she was going to unmask him. She had promised herself to never do that again without his permission.

"It is not heavy in the slightest." Was the only rational retort he could think to say with Christine's hand on his jaw, and her smile faded, as she removed her touch.

"An intolerable burden when it's unwanted. Raoul hoped I would change my mind, but the ring never sat on my finger. He is more a brother to me...I was planning to give it back to him soon..." She trailed off because her angel was not looking at her anymore, and after the serious eye contact she couldn't accept him looking at the ground. She itched to remove his mask to better assess his thoughts, which were frantically trying to catch up with what she was telling him. The ring was only a misunderstanding? She was not engaged to the fop. "Besides, I thought I was already spoken for..." Her soft words brought his head and eyes back up and on her. The intensity of his regard stole her breath away and she waited for him to make his move.

His eyes boiled with unspoken words behind the uncompromising mask and after waiting breathlessly for long enough she looked away to the table to pick up her chain. With very deliberate movements she lifted one of his gloved hands and slowly curled the chain in his palm, before closing his fingers over it and squeezing lightly. Her face was serene and happy and he glowered down at his fist.

"What is this?" He barked softly, the close quarters lending to a softer tone.

"My chain." She whispered with a dry throat. "My chains are yours, just as you said." He stared at her for a moment, uncomprehending, the face in the mask looking distinctly blank.

"Did you drink the punch?" He asked randomly while searching her face.

"No." She laughed with a flutter of lashes as she realized he thought her drunk.

"Then why did you give...why are you holding my...Why...are you doing this?"

"Because I want to. Because you want me to. Because I want you to believe me."

"Believe what?"

She plucked the ring off the table and tossed it in the trash bin, where it pinged once and then fell silent. "That ring means nothing to me."

His stupor rendered him immobile, and she pressed her advantage.

"Do you know how hard the last few months have been for me? Not knowing if you are alright, not knowing if you are even still in this building, or if I just imagined you. Not one word, not one note, Ange. I have been worried sick. What happened? Why did you abandon me? Was it because I saw your face? Or because of Buquet? You must know that none of that matters to me." She paused to allow him a moment to absorb it all.

"But up on the roof..."

"Do you realize how unfair you have been to me?" She cut him off because she knew of one time on the roof he could refer to and shame rolled over her. Immediately after Buquet's hanging, she'd run off, full of terror, playing out a scene on the roof with Raoul worthy of the games they played as children. Brave Knight Raoul would save Princess Christine from the monster. She chalked it up to shock and anger, but was horrified that Ange knew about that roof top fiasco. Her own mistakes had her crossing her arms angrily. "You show me your magical realm, let me wallow in the splendour and then snatch it away, no contact, no lessons, no music, no nothing from you since you brought me back up to a world impossibly grey and barren after visiting sweet music's throne. And I'm left wondering if I didn't just dream it all up, so much so that I feel half crazed by the memories of your voice, and only ever want to go to sleep so my dream would finally continue and I could make sweet music with you for the rest...of...time..."

His eyes were aflame with Christine's rapid, desperate, heartfelt words and his mouth opened and closed as he swallowed hard. He couldn't help noticing that Christine looked well suddenly, much better than she had all night. Her cheeks were rosy, her eyes clear and radiant, her lips moistened just now by her tongue. She watched his long neck pulse with his nervousness and then she gazed serenely into his turbulent eyes. They were the only visible part of his face to discern his thoughts from so she stared, trying to read his intentions in the depths of those liquid eyes.

"What do you wish me to do with this?" He twirled his hand into the air between them, draping the necklace around his fingers and making it dance, as his voice danced in her ears. He was looking to gain a moment to figure out what had just physically happened to him when Christine gazed into his soul like that. He'd wanted to taste the lips that spoke such sweet sincerity, but was too terrified to ever try. Talking was easier. "Your father gave you this necklace on your ninth birthday, the last gift you ever received from him, it used to have a charm, in the shape of a heart, which you lost the night you and Meg tumbled down the stairs in the sewing room. I am sure Harriet found it before I had a chance to look. Probably sold it for whatever she could gain. But the question I have, is why you would give the last remaining piece of your father in your possession to me?"

"I want you to wear it." His heart beat down the center of his being, drowning out everything else, and when she offered to put it on him, he submitted, still in shock, reaching up to touch the thin metal with a gloved finger. He was having trouble understanding this change in their relationship. She was offering her voice to him? Giving him her chain which symbolized her father's dream to have her sing?

He never imagined this would be the outcome to paying her a visit. After repairing the necklace from her father he knew he must return it and apologize. His reaction to seeing the ring had been pure rage. Upon reflection he realized he had made no promise to her, she had no reason to think he would return, and therefore had every right to accept other offers. But her reactions this evening, both at the masquerade and here in her private quarters, have left him at a disadvantage. How does one cope with acceptance and love? Has he ever been gifted with acceptance before?

"I was so happy when our eyes met across the room tonight." She spoke softly, a conspirators whisper. "To know it was you, that you hadn't left Paris, and left me, that you truly were standing before me, and not a delusion." Their bodies seemed to drift closer as the spell was cast.

"I wanted to speak with you." His cherished voice held her as his arms came up around Christine and hers rose to touch his chest.

"Your costume is superb." She fingered the velvet and then realized she was shockingly groping his chest, trying to feel how solid he was beneath the fabric.

"One of many things that has kept me from you for far too long."

"If only you had come to visit sooner we could have cleared up our misunderstandings."

"There seem to be many."

"I am so sorry, Ange."

"I came here hoping only to keep you as a student and somehow I have you in my arms. How is this possible?"

"It's where I want to be." She said simply as she rested her head upon his chest with a happy sigh. "I have missed you so much."

"I've missed you, Christine." He pulled her close and she could hear and feel his heart pounding in his chest. It was the most beautiful sound in the world to the girl who held the phantom. Her hands yearned for the feel of him and they wandered up and down his back, arms, shoulders and chest while he felt paralysed in place, experiencing his first, and by no means innocent, embrace.

"I don't want to stay here anymore, Ange. Can we leave?"

"Do you wish to come below with me?" He couldn't believe such a dream was happening, and Christine lifted her head to meet his eye with a smile.

"That would be wonderful for now, but I meant leave the opera house forever."

He disengaged from her arms and stared at her, unbelieving, until he asked for clarification. "What?"

"I've made a mess of things here. Everyone thinks I'm crazy, and Raoul wants to marry me and I've realized something else too." Her face was earnestness in its purest form. "Singing only feels right when I know you are listening."

A tiny smile tugged on the phantom's lips, but he reminded himself that the delicate gold chain around his neck was a sign of Christine's commitment to him, not a collar and leash for her to tug. He must make decisions based on reason and fact, not on his student's whims.

"Life beyond these walls would be an unknown equation for us. Here in the opera house we know our roles." He spoke authoritatively, but then remembered the trap the vicomte intended to lay. "Although, the management was planning to use you as bait to catch and kill me..."

Her face registered her shock, but she sprang into action. "All the more reason to leave immediately. I knew they would all over react to your entrance tonight." She began organizing some belongings on the bed while the phantom stood calculating options in his head. Where to go? What to bring? Who to inform? How they would travel? And then he thought of the ring he had down below. How he wanted to put it on her finger. Wanted to make her his wife. Possess her completely. Would she accept?

He let out a shuddery breath and tried to change his torrid train of thought, but his student looked over and halted what she was doing with a peculiar light in her eyes.

"Are you willing to leave this place with me? Here I am packing, but you haven't said a word." He shook himself slightly as if coming out of a trance.

"Forgive me. There is much to think on. I didn't write an opera only to surrender it to incompetent hands."

"Don Juan Triumphant." She emphasized the words exactly as her tutor had earlier in the evening and then sent him a radiant smile. "You could just take it back, sneak into the office."

"We have much to speak on. Let us go below and discuss these matters." He opened the mirror under her watchful eyes and they passed into the realm of music. Sounds echoed magically in the tunnel and Christine was happy to be experiencing the phenomenon again as her angel turned phantom began to sing.

"Down once more to the dungeon of my black despair..."

She couldn't help laughing at his strange description of his home. "Dungeon of despair?" Her laugh choked off as her own guilt for having caused him despair threatened to drown her. "Ange?" She reached out to stop their forward progress and he turned with the lantern held high. The white mask gleamed and the red death velvet looked like blood. "I am so sorry for leaving that night and not giving us a chance to talk."

It took a moment for him to register what she spoke of, and he turned slowly with a nod of acceptance and took Christine's hand to continue walking.

"That's it?" She was glad to be holding his hand. But couldn't believe he forgave her so easily.

"I have spent many hours dwelling on the events of that night, torturing myself with not only my sin but the memory of your love song, to keep me from coming to see you." Her heart wrenched in her chest at his admission and tears pricked her eyes.

"I am so sorry for singing with Raoul. We used to play it as children...the same sort of storyline...rescuing the damsel...our own little opera..."

"You do not need to explain. Your voice is your own."

She pulled at his arm so he would pay attention. "But none of that song was true to my heart! I was scared and confused by my own feelings."

His step slowed slightly at her confession and then he stopped suddenly and turned to capture Christine's chin in one long hand, searching her face, under the light of the lantern. "Staying away from you was the single most difficult thing I have ever done in my life. It was the last thing I desired to do, but I managed to because I thought it was what you wanted. When I finally saw you tonight, you did not appear happy, and I wanted to sweep in, scoop you up, and leave this place forever."

"What are we waiting for?" She grasped his clothing for emphasis. There was a breathless moment where they both wondered if one would ever have the courage to kiss the other, but the moment passed and Christine spoke again. "What is there to discuss if you want to leave as well? Let us go now. No delay."

"Patience, Christine." He pinched her cheek gently and she tried to smile as they carried on, holding hands like old friends.

Once they were sitting by a fire with tea and biscuits, neither wanted to speak of important business.

"What is Don Juan about?" She asked excitedly.

"Love and revenge." His eyes held heat and Christine tried not to notice his unwavering adoration behind the white mask.

"Are there many love scenes?"

"Enough."

"And fight scenes?"

"Naturally."

"Tell me about the music." She leaned forward eagerly and instead he began to sing to her, a challenging light in his eye.

"You have come here, in pursuit of your deepest urge...in pursuit of that wish which till now has been silent...silent." The back of his hand brushed her cheek with reverence as he sang louder. "I have brought you that our passions may fuse and merge, in your mind you've already succumbed to me, dropped all defenses completely succumbed to mmphft..."

A dainty hand cut off his song, but he didn't mind since having her touch him of her own accord was a glorious thing. "Very passionate music. How long have you been working on it?"

"Many years." His eyes were asking questions of her innocent soul and she remembered singing to Raoul that night so long ago. The night she started down the path away from her true heart. Tonight she was setting everything to rights. She stared into the questioning eyes of a man that could touch her soul with music. She wanted him to know it, he needed to know it, so she told him in the language they shared, song.

"Your voice fills my spirit with a strange sweet sound, that one night there was music in my mind. And through music my soul began to soar. And I lived as I've never lived before."

"How could you think it was only a dream?" His own thoughts spewed nightmarish memories of his own face, revealed to her accompanied by angry shouts, shoving, crying and cowering.

"You disappeared." Her eyes cast themselves down as she remembered the shame and scorn she felt from everyone above. "The longer you stayed away the easier it was to convince myself that I had imagined the whole thing. And I thought it a fitting punishment that my angel be taken away for betraying my own heart."

He could barely comprehend that Christine was sitting here with him, sipping tea, nibbling cookies and confessing a heart that beat with his. He didn't want to jump to any conclusions but she spoke of things that resided within him as well, and the long days of resisting the love he felt for her, melted away. He slid off the chair to his knees across from her and her lips turned up.

"I apologize for staying away. In a sense, I betrayed my heart as well. We belong together, but..." He killed a man. It was only good sense for her to seek refuge from him. His shoulders dropped down as he knew he was not worthy of Christine.

"We do belong together." She loudly declared with confidence, and then glanced at the man on his knees before her. "Red Death would not kneel."

"I am not Red Death." He was almost angry as he pulled at the flamboyant cravat. "Nor am I the angel of music. I am not a ghost, ghoul or goblin. No monster or demon. Even the phantom of the opera is not what I am. All that I am is, grossly deformed." His eyes begged her from behind the mask as he slowly removed the white covering from his face. She stared into his malformed face as if it looked normal to her, and perhaps her previous viewing had something to do with her benign reaction, but he liked to think that he did look normal to her. They smiled at each other, and his confidence grew in his chest. "My name is Erik, and I want you for my wife, Christine Daae."

Her grin split her lips apart. "I knew that dress was for me."


End file.
